Devil's Heart
by JustiniaKorax
Summary: An alternate version of Elena's journey back to her humanity told from Damon's point of view. What happens when both Elena and Damon end up with their humanity off? Some profanity and lots of Delena sexiness :) And, yes, there is actually a plot. Definitely Delena endgame.
1. Chapter 1

_This story takes place immediately following the events of 4x15, "_ Stand By Me."

 _It presents an alternate account of Elena's journey back to her humanity. There is no Silas or Shane character in this version._

Stefan and Damon followed Elena down the sidewalk as her house burned to the ground behind them. For a good while, no one spoke. Elena seemed preoccupied looking about her as if seeing the world for the first time- as though with brand new eyes. Neither of the brothers knew what to say. The magnitude of Elena's actions still held them both in a slight state of shock.

After a time, sirens could be heard racing up the street. A neighbor must have reported the fire. Damon had no desire to deal with inquisitive humans tonight, even if that just meant compelling one or two or a dozen to go away. He opened his mouth to say something, but Stefan beat him to it.

"Elena, maybe we should get you home - back to our place," he corrected himself.

At first, she acted like she hadn't heard him and continued to walk through the darkness ahead of her. "Elena-"

This time she spun around and graced them with a dimpled smile, the kind that normally made her seem impishly adorable, but this one didn't reach her eyes, so it just seemed disingenuous. "No, you know what? I actually feel pretty great, so I think I'm going to go out."

Stefan frowned and Damon could almost taste the disapproval rolling off of him it was so thick. "I'm not sure that's the best idea right now-"

She disappeared, using her vamp speed to leave them behind.

"Great," Damon scolded his brother. "Now we'll never find her. Maybe this wasn't the best time for your judgmental dad impression."

Stefan rounded on his brother and skewered him with a glare that gave even Damon pause. "This is all your fault. I told you to _help_ her, not force her to turn it all off."

"Really, Stefan, _my_ fault? You didn't see your face or Barbie vamp's. Elena was spiraling and neither of you had a clue what to do. This was the only way." Plus, he couldn't stand for one more second to see Elena in such anguish. He would have done anything to take that pain from her. "She'll party hard for a bit, and then I'll get her to turn it back on. Easy peasy, no harm no foul."

Stefan hissed, "We both know it won't be that easy. Nothing with you ever is. Your rash decisions always end up costing someone, and it's rarely you. This is just another example of you taking the easy way out instead of helping Elena deal."

"Go home, Stefan, before you say something you'll regret."

Still muttering, his brother took off.

Damon turned to look back down the street. Fire trucks and cop cars were parked in front of Elena's house, and several fire fighters tried valiantly to stem the blazing fire. He doubted they'd be able to rescue the house. Elena had been very thorough when she doused it with alcohol.

Just then, he noticed someone walking towards him, a police officer who no doubt wanted to ask the mysterious man on the sidewalk if he'd seen anything. A slight breeze stirred the silken black strands trailing over the collar of his leather jacket, and if he'd been human, he would have shivered. Well, to be precise, if he was human, he'd be dead. Like a hundred and fifty years ago dead.

"So, Damon, am I correct in assuming it's no coincidence that you happen to be standing here while Elena's house is on fire?"

He grinned and widened the eyes he knew how to use to great effect. "Liz, my favorite sheriff. Would you believe me if I said no?"

"Probably not. What happened?" She had one hand on her hip and the space between her eyebrows was crinkled with concern.

"Long story short, we needed a cover story for Jeremy's death."

Liz's face grew long, and Damon remembered that she'd known Jeremy since birth. She turned from the waist up to look back at the halo of flames engulfing the Gilbert residence and then nodded her head gently, looking again at Damon.

He rushed on, "I know he deserved better, but saying that Elena didn't take this very well is a massive understatement."

"I can imagine. Poor girl. Do you need anything from me?"

He was about to respond with a no, but a sudden thought changed his mind. "Reach out to Caroline tonight. She was quiet when she left and we both know that that can't be a good sign. I think Elena scared her."

"I will. Damon, thank you."

"Night, sheriff." He gave Caroline's mom a quick, bitter smile before darting away. But he wasn't going to follow Stefan home. No, he wasn't ready to go home yet.

* * *

He had no idea what time it was when he returned to the Salvatore mansion, except that it was still dark and the position of the full moon said it wouldn't be for much longer.

He found Stefan in the library sitting on a couch in front of the fire, chin in hand, firelight casting a warm glow across his gothic features. The furrows in his brow were so deep Damon imagined his face might get stuck that way. At least then the curtains would match the carpet. He raised his bottle of liquor in a drunken salute. "Hello, little brother. Leveling up our brooding skills, are we?"

Stefan shot him a disgusted look and rose, marching upstairs to his room and slamming the door with a bang that didn't require vamp senses to be heard.

Fine, Damon had no desire to be around the sanctimonious little prick anyway. He could huff and puff and storm around angrily all he wanted, but eventually he'd calm down and realize that Damon had helped Elena the only way he could. Besides, it was time she unwound a little and enjoyed the perks of being a vampire. She was on a path to becoming as mopey as his brother.

He collapsed into his favorite leather chair and took another swig of bourbon. He couldn't recall when he'd exchanged a glass for the entire bottle. Maybe it was that little side bar he'd found. Shit, maybe he'd robbed a liquor store. He grinned. He rather liked that scenario. He did not want to admit to himself that he'd wandered from bar to bar and then through the Mystic Falls cemetery purely on a quest to maybe run into Elena. Just to make certain she was ok, of course. He was confident she was. She was tougher than Stefan would allow her to be. But it never hurt to see for himself.

And, what wondrous fortune, in his travels he'd gained an incredibly powerful buzz and somewhat of a spotty memory. His vampire metabolism wouldn't allow him to get completely black out drunk, but he was definitely going to give it a good attempt.

The more he drank the blacker his mood became. Damn Stefan for not being willing to admit that his way was the only way. Damn Katherine for appearing out of nowhere and beating them to the cure, thus killing Elena's brother. That bitch, always ruining lives.

They were only in this situation because Elena couldn't handle losing the one family member she had left. As much as he wished it otherwise, he knew he wouldn't be enough to get her through. Not this time. Not even with a super handy sire bond, he thought darkly. He took another long drink, relishing the burn of the bourbon as it slid down his throat. Something 98.6 degrees would be better, but for now this did the trick.

Did Elena really love him? Who knew? For a brief moment, he'd thought the answer was yes. Instead, all he'd learned was they were dynamite in bed together. He'd never doubted that though. The sexual tension between them was combustible enough to set off the aforementioned dynamite, and he was … well, Damon Salvatore. He had almost two centuries under his belt of pleasing the opposite sex. People complained about him for a lot of reasons, but sexual prowess was not one of them. Not even Katherine.

He tried to take another swallow and frowned when he realized the bottle was empty. One brave soldier down, time to find another to join the gallant fight.

He looked up and for a moment & thought that he'd summoned Katherine with his thoughts. She stood before him in stilettos and a black dress so tight and short that he had no trouble recalling what lay beneath it. Her silken hair was long and framed her face like a dark halo. He stared stupidly, unable to summon one of his usual snarky quips.

Then, Katherine smiled, and he realized Katherine wasn't Katherine. It was Elena standing in his library like a tall cool drink of pure sex. They'd never been able to confuse him…well, except that once when he kissed Katherine on Elena's porch because he'd thought she was Elena…but he hadn't known the bitch vampire had returned yet, so he refused to count it.

"Elena, you're…here." Looking completely un-Elena-like.

"Mhmm." She took the liquor bottle out of his unresisting hand and studied it. "Gross. Bourbon. You know you can compel a bartender to give you something good, right?"

He stiffened and said indignantly, "Did you come here to mock my choice of liquor?"

Though half of her face was in shadows, he could still see her secretive smile. "Not exactly." She turned on a long slim leg and tossed the container carelessly onto one of their expensive leather couches. Walking towards the doorway, she inquired over her shoulder, "Is Stefan here?"

He flashed in front of her, blocking her path into the hallway. "Right now's probably not a good time to ask me about my brother."

She pouted. "Aw, why not?" She reached up and traced the V-neck of his black shirt. He forced himself to ignore the shiver her touch sent ricocheting through him. "Did you two get in a fight? I hope it wasn't over me." She looked up at the ceiling, knowing the younger Salvatore could hear her. "It's ok, Stefan, I'm fine now, I promise. For the first time in a really long time." She leveled her gaze and met his eyes. "Thanks to Damon."

"What game are you playing?" he asked through gritted teeth. Her resemblance to her evil doppelganger apparently didn't end with her new wardrobe. She was behaving like a little minx.

She leaned close enough that her breath stirred the raven curls of hair on his neck and murmured, "I got bored, and well, I figure I owe you. Turns out, you did me a favor."

Before he could react or fully comprehend her implication, she shoved him against the wall, and books tumbled off the shelves in a noisy cavalcade. Her lips sought his and claimed them and for one moment he sank into the kiss, eyes closed, hands tangled in her dark waterfall of hair. The scent of the lavender shampoo she used enveloped him and clogged his senses like a drug. He felt brief pressure as fabric dug into his skin and then gave way when she rent his shirt right down the middle. Her hands slid along his chiseled torso, and he groaned. God, he wanted this, wanted her; he really did. Elena, his sweet, darling Elena, the most thoughtful, compassionate person he knew. Even as a vampire she had retained the goodness that made him love her so fiercely.

"I want you to fuck me, Damon," she whispered huskily, something his Elena would _never_ say.

Dammit, why shouldn't he give her exactly what she was asking for. Why shouldn't he take exactly what he so desperately needed from her. He'd been so good, so honorable, respecting the sire bond, respecting _her_ and not wanting to take advantage of her. But now…now she was right in front of him and begging for a good tumble. And goddamn if every miserable cell in his entire miserable body wasn't one hundred percent willing and able to comply with her very explicit wish.

His hands tightened in her hair and forced her head up from where she was trailing kisses along his collarbone. Hot, wet kisses that scorched a path straight to his groin.

Though he was technically dead, she had the ability to make him feel incredibly alive. But he couldn't go through with it, not like this. Being with her for that one perfect night before it had all blown up in his face, when he'd believed that it was as simple as two people desperately craving each other and finally getting their moment, that night had been like taking a sip of the finest, most rarified wine. Having her like this would be like settling for warm, gritty water.

"Stop. Elena, this isn't what I want," he panted.

She laughed and cupped his hardness, which drove him momentarily insane. "Liar, we both know this is exactly what you want."

Seeing her before him, lips swollen from kissing and her hand on his dick, he almost caved again. God, he should do it. After all she'd put him through, toying with him while she was with Stefan, pretending that she didn't feel something for him while professing her undying love for his anemic brother, he should just throw her down on the ground and give her the ride of her life. Images of how warm and willing she'd been the first time scorched through his brain like wildfire.

But then he looked into her eyes, eyes which had always been full of life and light, and he saw how flat and dark they were, like a candle that had been suddenly extinguished. His Elena was nowhere to be found in their espresso depths, and suddenly all desire fled. He couldn't allow this to happen. It would mean nothing to her, _be_ nothing, and he couldn't handle that. Being with her meant everything to him.

He shoved her away from him, causing her to stumble. "Not like this." He didn't dare move and relinquish the support of the wall behind him for fear that his knees would betray him and give out.

Shoving hair out her face, she scowled up at him, eyes flashing. "And here I thought you were the fun brother. Clearly, I was wrong."

"Elena-"

"I'm outta here," she muttered.

"Dammit, Elena-"

Just like that, she was gone. Who knew when he'd see her again. He scrubbed his face with one hand and took a few breaths to settle his composure. Tonight had been just one fucktacular episode after another.

As he bent to reshelf the books Elena's failed seduction attempt had jarred loose, a thought occurred to him. He'd overtly told her that he didn't want her to do what she was doing – but she'd continued anyway. Was the sire bond broken? Could it be that easy? All along, had all that had been required was for Elena to turn it off, killing the emotions that created the sire bond in the first place? He was unable to suppress the smile that stretched across his striking features. Then, a ghastly thought occurred to him as well, erasing the upturn of his lips. If the sire bond was broken, there was no way for him to ensure Elena regained her humanity in a timely manner.

He sensed the moment Stefan stepped into the library, an aura of righteousness preceding him like a physical entity. It seemed Stefan was correct. Damon's actions _had_ created unforeseen consequences, but he'd be damned if he gave his brother the satisfaction of knowing that. He'd just keep his discovery to himself.

"Was that Elena I just heard leaving?"

Damon sighed. "Can we not do this right now?"

"I'm just curious what our new Elena wanted, that's all."

"She's not _our_ anything," he snarled, angered that Stefan was pretending like he hadn't heard every fucking word.

"Well, she's certainly not _yours_ , Damon."

The ugly reminder that her feelings for him were nothing but a by-product of the sire bond sent him over the edge he'd been teetering on since Elena's visit had left him raw and shaken. He lashed out. "If you must know, oh brother mine, she wanted a quickie before resuming her humanity-less shenanigans."

He watched as Stefan took in the scene before him, Damon in his shredded attire, the books spilled across the floor. It only hurt for a tiny instant as Stefan immediately assumed the worst about him. "You son of a bitch. How could you?"

When Stefan launched himself at his brother, Damon was taken by surprise for the second time that night and fell with a grunt, the younger vampire's hands wrapped around his throat. However, Stefan never could hold his own in a fight against him, and he quickly reversed their position, flipping his brother beneath him. He smirked as he pinned the struggling Stefan. "Relax, nothing happened. Apparently, I'm Saint Damon now."

His brother stopped squirming. "We've got to find her. She's out of control."

Damon sat up and cautiously released him. "Why? Because you're jealous?"

"I'm not jealous," he quickly protested. "She's going to do something she regrets. If it's not sleeping with you, it'll be killing innocent people."

"First of all, nobody _regrets_ sleeping with me," Damon informed him. "Secondly, I think you're wrong. We need to just let her get this out of her system."

"I find your lack of reaction to this rather disturbing."

He rolled his eyes. "Can it, Stefan. Even you got to ride the emotionless roller coaster. More than once, I might add. Just give her a few days, let her have her fun, and then this'll all be over."

Stefan stood and glared down at Damon who was still crouched on the floor. "You do realize that when she comes back to herself, she'll never forgive you."

Damon grew deathly still, enraged that his brother would give voice to a fear he wasn't willing to face yet.

His brother continued, "I hope you're prepared for that. And when she needs someone to help her get through what you've done to her, you better believe I'll be ready."

Damon's hands curled into fists and he imagined how satisfying it would be to smash them into Stefan's insipid face. The only thing that prevented him from giving in to that impulse was Stefan's timely retreat.

When Elena turned it back on, when she let everything come rushing back, if the sire bond really had been broken, she'd return to Stefan. She'd choose Stefan. It was always _fucking_ Stefan.

* * *

Most of the time being Damon Salvatore was great. He took what he wanted, when he wanted it, lived life to the fullest, didn't have any regrets, and could give a flying fuck what anyone else thought.

This wasn't one of those times. It was day three since Elena Gilbert, the girl he loved, had gone off the rails thanks to him. He had no clue what she'd been up to since their run-in at the Salvatore mansion, and despite what he'd told Stefan, he was worried about her and continuously found himself watching the CNN news reports on the Mystic Grill TV above the bar in case there were reports of strange animal attacks. Not even Bonnie or Caroline had heard from her.

Matt Donovan appeared in his vision, and he waved his empty glass at the blonde bar back. "Hey, quarterback, help a brother out."

Matt frowned at him. Whatever. The kid always looked like he'd just sucked on an especially sour lemon. "I think you've had enough. Don't you have somewhere else you can go, other people you can harass?"

"Don't make me compel you."

When Matt didn't budge, he grimaced. "Fine. No tip for you." He spun on his bar stool and was greeted with the sight of a sneering Klaus. The elder vampire's leonine features looks positively wolfish.

"I thought I might find you here, Damon. So predictable."

Great. A perfect ending to a perfect night. The smarmy Original was the last person he wanted to see, especially since the last time Damon had seen him, he'd been trapped in Elena's living room. "Here's a tip: go home and shave. You're starting to look like you're homeless."

Klaus blocked him from getting up. "Insulting my appearance. I expected better from you."

"Really?"

"No. Shall I buy you a drink?"

"You know, Klaus, that's an offer I rarely refuse, but in this case, I think I will."

Klaus raised a hand and covered his heart. "Ouch. Consider me wounded. You," he gestured at Matt, "two of…whatever Damon's having."

Damon resigned himself to the fact that there'd be no shaking the Original until he'd had his say. Some might consider him charming with an air of old-world sophistication – Caroline certainly did, proving she was a dumb blonde and her instincts couldn't be trusted – but he personally failed to see the appeal. "What do you want, Klaus? I'm really not in the mood."

"Are you aware that I've neither seen nor heard from my beloved sister since your joint outing to Nova Scotia?"

"And I should care about your dysfunctional relationship with Rebekah why?"

"Well, normally, I'd agree with you, but you see, I really need that cure."

"And whatever Klaus wants, Klaus gets," Damon muttered sarcastically, looking down into his glass.

"Precisely. Since Rebekah is acting like a petulant child, you are going to tell me where it is and who has it."

"Hate to break it to you, Klausie, but it's not here in Mystic Falls. Katherine has it, and she's got quite the head start. Knowing her, she's hiding out somewhere sunny and sandy, draining the local boys dry in more ways than one. That bitch." He drained the amber liquid Matt set down in front of him in one gulp. He savored the fiery trail it etched down his throat.

"Ah, the lovely Katarina." Klaus picked up his glass but didn't drink. "I should have known she'd be involved somehow. How it must have chafed Rebekah to be outwitted by her."

Damon gave a shallow grin. "I don't think it sat too well with anyone. Katherine never does. Sorry, not sorry I can't help."

Klaus clapped him on the shoulder and stood. "Never fear, Damon, you've helped me more than you know. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

The Original's cheeriness left him unsettled. Why exactly was Klaus happy when a vampire who'd eluded him for five hundred years had absconded with a cure which he desired for himself? Rather than try to unravel that particular riddle, because frankly, he didn't care enough, he grabbed Klaus's abandoned drink and polished it off, saluted Matt's sourpuss, and headed out.

Leaving the Grill, he savored the brisk night air. He watched three young giggling women hail a taxi, and he suddenly found himself in the mood for something stronger and more satisfying than alcohol. Screw going home and drinking micro waved blood bags and facing judgmental silent treatment from Stefan.

It didn't take long for him to select his target, a lone brunette wandering in a dark part of the town square. She smelled like cheap beer and seemed confused.

"Lost?" he queried, appearing in front of her. She peered up at him, suspicious at first, but his devilish good looks lulled her into a false sense of relaxation. It was amazing to him how rarely anyone was willing to doubt a handsome face. Of course, it worked out in his favor, so he was hardly going to knock it.

"Actually, yes, do you know where the bus station is? I thought it was around here, but…" she shrugged sheepishly, embarrassed by her ineptitude.

"Right this way. In fact, it just so happens I know a short cut."

She smiled at her good fortune and willingly followed him down a dark alley. He waited just long enough to lead her beyond the light of the street lamps before he pounced. He didn't even bother to compel her not to scream or fight back. Honestly, he wanted to taste her fear, relish in her cries. It reminded him that he was a predator, not the neutered creature he'd become trying to gain Elena's approval. Not that it mattered now with her being MIA and humanity-less.

As her blood flowed into his mouth, rich and warm and thick, he listened to her heartbeat slow and briefly considered not stopping, wanting to enjoy every last drop. His bloodlust was strong tonight and he was so hungry. But no. He didn't particularly feel like spending his night dragging a corpse out to the woods and digging a shallow grave.

With her blood dripping down his chin and staining his teeth, he compelled her to forget that he'd attacked her, fed her just enough blood so her neck injury would heal, and even told her how to find the bus station. Turned out he _was_ a saint.

"Good, now that that's taken care of, we can get down to business," said a voice behind him.

He whirled and was confronted with the sight of Klaus standing nearby, almost completely obscured in shadow. "Jesus, Klaus! Creep much?"

The Original smiled wickedly. That was the last thing Damon remembered before he heard the snap of his own neck.

* * *

Awareness returned slowly, and it was painful and unpleasant.

"Good morning, princess," an eerily cheerful voice filtered through his haze. Klaus's face swam into focus. It was upside down. Why was Klaus's face upside down? Shit, _he_ was upside down, hanging by his ankles. When he extended his arms fully, his fingertips just barely grazed the tiled floor.

"What the hell?" he groaned. "Is this revenge for trapping you in Elena's house? I promise you that was _not_ my idea." Of course, he hadn't exactly objected to it either. But, he would just casually forget to mention that.

Klaus didn't answer. Instead, he was busy examining and arranging blades on a small table nearby. Damon's skin began to crawl. He did not want to find out what the Original's intentions were as far as those long, shiny knives went, especially since it seemed to involve himself being at the elder vampire's mercy.

He rattled the chains holding him. He knew he wouldn't be able to break them, but he couldn't resist trying. "I hate to break it to you, but this isn't exactly very creative. In fact, I like to call this one 'Been there, Done that, Got the T-Shirt.'" He was of course referring to his brief, agony-filled interlude with Rebekah in this very room.

Klaus ran a finger along one wickedly long curved blade and smiled at the bright red blood that erupted on the pad of his finger. "Damon, has anyone ever told you that you talk entirely too much?"

"More than once, actually."

Klaus moved close enough to reach out and touch him. "Hmm, perhaps you should take them to heart. They just might know what they're talking about." In one swift motion, he bent and slit Damon's throat. Damon would have screamed except his wind pipe was severed and he couldn't draw any air into his lungs. Because he was upside down, he had the unfortunate experience of feeling his blood streaming down his face.

However, it only took a moment for the wound to heal enough for him to rasp, "As much as I appreciate the attention, at least my last torturer was sexy. No offense."

"None taken." Klaus struck again with the knife in a motion that opened him from nipple to belly button.

This time he did scream. "Why are you doing this?"

"I need Elena. Well, to be more precise, I need her blood. You're going to get it for me." He gestured at Damon with the knife.

Damon laughed, and it sounded a touch desperate. "Didn't you know? Katherine killed her brother so Elena jumped off the deep end. Your doppelganger is currently driving an emotionless party bus through Whothefuckknowswhere, USA."

"Oh, I'm well aware, Damon. After our little chat at the Grill, I paid a visit to your brother and he was quite forthcoming in regards to the rashness of your actions. Tsk, tsk, poor Elena, so grief-stricken you used your sire bond to compel her to turn her humanity off." He steepled his fingers in front of his face and shook his head melodramatically, a mocking look of sympathy adorning his features. "I wonder if she'll ever forgive you."

Damon pursed his lips and cursed Stefan mentally. Really?, he thought. Bitching about me to Klaus is low even for you, dear brother. "Then you know that I have no idea where she is. I can't help you. In fact, you really should be torturing Stefan, not me. He's the one who's desperate to return Elena to her original factory settings."

"But you see, Damon, I don't need Elena to regain her humanity; I even find it rather adorable how distraught it makes you Salvatores. Rather, my plan is to bleed you until any vervain is out of your system, then I'm going to compel your obedience. Why you, you ask, and not Stefan? It's true, I do prefer your brother, since he is an artist whilst you are an amateur. Nevertheless, I still hope to one day restore our friendship, ergo I can't very well kidnap and compel him-"

" _Again,_ " interjected Damon.

"Yes, once was enough," Klaus agreed. "That means I'm left with you. I suppose I could just hunt down Elena myself, but I've always preferred to let the minions handle the dirty work. Don't worry, while I do enjoy listening to your misery, I promise to make this as quick as possible."

"I still don't understand."

Klaus grew impatient. "I'm going to make this simple for you. I want the cure. Katherine has the cure. I need to find Katherine. My witch can do a locator spell to find her using doppelganger blood."

Damon couldn't take his eyes off the knife in Klaus's hand. He asked, voice laden with dread, "What are you going to compel me to do?"

"To find Elena and to acquire her blood by any means necessary. And of course to maximize your efficiency, we'll have to go ahead and shut that pesky humanity off."

Damon's screams reverberated through Klaus's mansion all night.

* * *

Gravel crunched beneath the brand new tires he'd just had put on his blue '67 Camaro convertible as he pulled up the driveway of Elena's family lake house. He situated his car in park behind a metallic silver Toyota sedan.

He waited for a moment, hand resting on the gear shift, absorbing the scene in front of him.

Elena's Ford Escape was up at the very top of the driveway. Stretched out behind it was a string of various vehicles, approximately a dozen or so.

Afternoon sunlight sparkled on grey-blue waters somewhere off to his right.

It was funny. Once he possessed the proper motivation and one hundred percent focus, figuring out where Elena was holing up had taken exactly one guess. He was a little surprised she hadn't picked somewhere more remote, since she seemed to want to avoid her friends, but then he'd never been able to understand the inner workings of a Gilbert brain. At any rate, it made his mission easier. Which he had every intention of completing, but only after he'd had a little fun first.

Three people, two guys and a busty female, were standing on the porch, plastic red Solo cups in hand, chatting away about banalities on which he couldn't even be bothered to eavesdrop. Music was playing, the sort that was too trendy and too meaningless.

After a quick glance in his rear view mirror just to make sure everything was in its rightful place, he made his way to the front door, flaring his eyes and smiling broadly for the full figured lady on the porch who literally began to preen. He had that effect on women.

Not a chance in hell, honey, he thought caustically.

The door was already half-way open so he just pushed it the rest of the way, lounging in the entrance like a lazy, lithe panther, shoulder on the door frame, thumbs tucked in the belt loops of his perfectly tailored black pants.

It was no chore at all to spot Elena. She was front and center, a young man swooning in her arms as she drank from his carotid. No one around her was reacting in any way, making it obvious these 'friends' had been compelled to attend Elena's little get-together.

She looked 'Elena-like' this time in a navy blue top with spaghetti straps made of lace and short, short, _short_ jean shorts accented with a leather belt and eye-catching golden buckle. Her feet were bare, toes polished a coral pink that matched her nails, and there was a silver toe ring on her right pinky toe.

He waited for her to notice him.

Her mouth lifted off the guy's neck, and he listened as she purred into his ear, "Now go away and forget this happened." She didn't even bother to heal his wound before he stumbled away.

Finally, while wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as almost an afterthought, she met his gaze and froze.

He winked. "Nice technique, young grasshopper."

"What are you doing here?" Elena demanded in a tone that made it clear she was unhappy to see him.

"You're having a party, aren't you?" he asked innocently.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she moved closer and tried to look behind him. "Where's Stefan?'

"You know, I'm a little hurt I didn't get an invite."

"Where is he?" she repeated.

"I'll just assume it got lost in the mail." With that, he strode inside, not actually needing an invitation because its owners, Elena and Jeremy, were both technically dead.

He paused at a table in the entranceway holding several trays of finger food. He picked up a cheese cube with a fun-colored toothpick poking out of it from one of the trays and stuck it between his lips. "Ooo, fancy. Someone compelled herself a caterer."

"Damon!" she exclaimed, at the end of her patience.

"I have no idea where my baby bro is," he said nonchalantly. "He's probably out having a circle jerk with his furry little woodland friends right now."

"You seriously expect me to believe that you came here alone? That you two aren't plotting something stupid? Am I to take it that you're the quote-un-quote distraction?"

"I am distracting enough on my own, thank you very much. I don't need Stefan for that." He slid right up to her and favored her with a half-smile. He leaned in so that she could feel his breath on the shell of her ear and whispered, "The world doesn't always revolve around you, Elena."

He pulled away and walked around her into the main room where the majority of people were gathered. Most of them had bloody necks and open oozing fang holes.

He could feel her studying him as he surveyed the crowd.

Finally, she said, "There's something different about you."

"Is there?" he asked lightly.

She was silent for a moment, then decided to change tact. "I'm surprised it took you so long to find me."

"Who says I was looking?"

"Why else would you be here?"

A skilled deflector, he pointed at a red-head sitting on a couch who was staring demurely into her drink while a swarthy guy with too much facial hair attempted to hit on her. "I'm thinking that one."

She knew instantly what he was talking about. "Too skinny."

He snorted. "You're one to talk." She glared at him, so he asked, "Who would you pick then, Miss Persnickety?"

She looked around for a moment before gesturing towards a young Asian man who already had bite marks. "He was pretty delicious."

Damon blurred forward and buried his fangs into soft flesh, rending more than he drank. He let go and looked up. "You're right. Delicious." He offered her easy access to the other side of his victim's throat. "Duet?"

She gave him a look like she wasn't sure if he was serious.

He moved his chin once in a reassuring nod. He knew she would find his invitation more than she could resist. He was extremely comfortable with the darkness inside of him, unlike Stefan who was pathetic in his pathological refusal to accept his true nature. But to Elena, flipping the switch was still shiny and new and overwhelming. He could well remember how intoxicating and liberating it felt to experience freedom from all guilt and regret for the first time.

She joined him as he'd known she would and struck like a tiny fierce cobra. Her throat pulsed with each swallow. It was probably the most erotic thing he'd ever seen, the blue and purple veins dancing under her eyes currently closed in rapturous delight.

He could remember vaguely that there were reasons why he wasn't supposed to sleep with Elena, but they felt ill-defined now and far away. Definitely not relevant to this moment here and now. He wanted her because he could remember how good their sex had been and because of how hot she looked right now, a petite siren with caramel skin and a kindred bloodlust.

When Elena released her grip, the guy was dead, completely drained. Damon let go and the body fell to the floor between them with a thump. "Million dollar question time," he quipped. "Did that just make you as horny as it did me?"

The old Elena would have looked shocked and protested fiercely that of course killing people did _not_ turn her on. Then she would give him _the look_ , her doe eyes full of disappointment, and he would know that he'd been judged and found severely lacking.

The new Elena just smiled softly, the only answer he needed, and she ran a finger through the blood on her chin. She touched her bloody fingertip to his lips, and he blurred into action.

He grabbed her hips and forcefully hoisted her onto a table behind them. With a rough jerk, he yanked her torso flush against his and wrapped her long legs about his waist. His hardness settled into the apex of her firm thighs.

The new blood racing through his system was like the most exquisite high, one that made the world more vivid, colors brighter, sounds and smells sharper. Though the emotions were absent, on a purely physical level, his skin thrilled when it made contact with hers, and he could feel her practically vibrating. Beneath his touch, Elena burned like fire, and he was eager to immolate himself on her pyre. He kissed her with a demanding urgency, but after a moment, she turned her head, so that his lips fell on her cheek.

"I think you already had your chance." Though her words spoke of denial, her body still pressed eagerly into his.

Little vixen, he thought, angry that she would play games with him now. He was past games. Their previous sex, while explosive, had been tender and solicitous, each concerned with the pleasure of the other. This time it would be violent and consuming. He'd take what he wanted, and her eternally young, supernaturally strong body would handle the punishment he doled out. He suspected she'd welcome it.

He trailed kisses across her collar bone, and she arched the column of her throat. "Isn't Elena Gilbert famous for her second chances?"

She grabbed his face between her hands. She forced him to look her in the eye, though his hands didn't stop their exploration beneath her shirt. He detected a hitch in her breath when they discovered a particularly sensitive spot.

"I mean it. Tell me what you're up to."

He leered, eyes flashing. "I'd rather just show you."

She laughed, the sound ringing like bells, and released him, hands sliding down his triceps. "I can't just leave. It's my party after all."

He pressed his mouth against hers. "You're not really _leaving_ , we're just taking _this_ party somewhere more private."

He felt her mouth curve upwards in a grin. "Fine. Race you."

He snagged her by an elbow before she darted off. "If I win?"

She dimpled cutely. "Trust me, you don't want to."

She vanished into an empty bedroom and he felt himself grinning. He'd always found the hunt as much fun as the kill.

* * *

He knew it must be morning time, because he could feel warm sunlight shining through a window onto his bare chest, but he didn't know exactly what hour it was since he hadn't opened his eyes yet. He still felt all warm and tingly and wasn't quite ready to wake up yet. Elena's head rested on his shoulder and her legs twined about his. He could feel Klaus's imperative urging him to hurry, but he told it to fuck off for a while.

"I figured it out. I know what's different about you," she murmured sleepily.

"Hmm," he responded pleasantly. Sex tended to put him in a good mood, especially good sex that lasted for hours. She was a little hellcat in bed. A very flexible, enthusiastic little hellcat and he had the claw marks to prove it – or he would if he wasn't blessed with supernaturally swift healing.

Her fingertips began to walk up his chest. "You turned it off. Your humanity."

"Hmm," he reiterated in the same agreeable tone. He played idly with the ends of her hair. They were so soft, just like every other inch of her.

"Why?"

He let her question evaporate into the air. He wasn't in the mood to answer difficult questions.

There was silence for awhile, golden silence. He needed to get up and go, but he still wasn't ready yet to go through the trouble of becoming vertical.

Elena resumed speaking. "I've never done most of that stuff, you know, that we just did."

He smirked. "Stick with me, kiddo. We're just getting started."

"Stefan was only ever into the missionary position."

His eyes snapped open, mood soured abruptly. The last thing he wanted to think about right now was Elena and Stefan in bed together. He was vain enough to feel slighted that a woman he'd just thoroughly fucked was recalling her past lovers – his _brother_ – while lying next to him. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, hunting for his clothes.

She seemed to realize she'd made a mistake. "You're not leaving, are you?" She crawled over and hugged him from behind, pressing her bare breasts into his back. "I thought we were just getting started."

He gave her a tight look over his shoulder. "Yeah, I hate to be a dick and run but… I'm going to be a dick and run. I got what I came for."

"What? You weren't just using me for sex, were you?" Her words were light, and she began to do something very interesting with her hands south of his waistline. She didn't sound like she minded being used at all.

"Me? Use someone for sex? It's like you don't know me at all," he delivered with biting sarcasm.

She laughed and flopped onto her back on the bed. "And _I_ get accused of being like Katherine."

He stood, pulling on his shirt at the same time. First, she had the audacity to bring up Stefan, something that was still royally pissing him off even if, granted, he came off more favorably, and now she was comparing him to the duplicitous bitch that'd basically ruined his life. He felt the need to take her down a peg or two.

"Actually, Elena, the sex was just a perk. This is why I'm here." He picked his black leather jacket off the ground and revealed a syringe in the pocket filled with a dark red liquid. "Sex was just an easy – and fun – way for me to get your blood."

She jerked upright, mouth gaping in shock. "You stuck a needle in me? While I was _sleeping_?"

"Didn't hear you complaining when I stuck something else in you last night," he taunted lewdly.

She shrieked in outrage and lunged at him, attempting to wrestle the syringe out of his hand. "I'm going to kill you," she hissed through fangs, vampire aspect on full display.

He pocketed it and easily deflected her in one fluid motion, pinning her down on the bed, looming over her. She struggled furiously, tendons standing out in her throat and arms, and he enjoyed it immensely, especially since she was _sans_ any clothing. "Get in line, sweetheart."

She must have realized she wasn't about to outmuscle him, so she stilled and asked, "Damon, why?"

"You think you'd be used to people wanting your special doppelganger fluids by now."

Her eyes narrowed and she whispered, "Klaus. It has to be. That's why you turned your emotions off. He _made_ you." Her gaze darted up to his. "Why does he need my blood?"

"I never agreed that that's what happened."

"Tell me, Damon!"

He sighed. He supposed he'd brought this on himself by revealing more than he should have, flashing the syringe like a cocky bastard. "There's a spell one of his witches knows that can locate Katherine using doppelganger blood. I-e, Klaus needs yours."

He watched her grow deadly calm. "No, he can't be allowed to get his hands on the cure. I won't go back to the way I was, poor, defenseless, and sad all the time," she sneered in derision of her former self. "I like the way I am. Admit you do, too."

Truthfully, he did like her better this way. She was strong and fearless, bold in taking what she wanted and willing to do all sorts of things in bed that would give humanity-burdened Elena pause for sure. Rather than answer, he reminded her, "I'm compelled, remember? Don't have a choice here."

"What exactly did he say to you?"

"Elena –"

"I'm tired of repeating myself, Damon!"

He blinked, shocked enough by her outburst that he found himself complying. He adopted an infuriatingly smug European accent: " 'Damon Salvatore, you're to locate Elena Gilbert and obtain her blood. And tick tock, time is of the essence.' "

"Ok, so he told you to _obtain_ a sample of my blood, but not to actually _bring_ it to him."

He performed a quick mental review of Klaus's command. "I think we both know what he meant."

"What he meant isn't what he said. There's your loophole. Damon, _think_ about it," she urged.

He was, furiously. Was he ready to return to Klaus because he'd just assumed he was supposed to or was there actually an outside force obliging him? He performed a quick internal scan and had to admit that he couldn't find any compelling reason to obey the ancient vampire. Yes, pun intended.

It wasn't like Elena to be cleverer than him. He had to admit he was impressed. How had he not noticed such an oversight in the Original's wording? And why had Klaus been so careless? Was he that arrogant, that used to always being obeyed? "What do you propose I do about it, then?" he drawled.

"Let's go after Katherine ourselves."

He raised his eyebrows. "I thought you didn't want the cure?"

"I don't. We can go after her and destroy it so no one can use it against me. We both know a witch who might be…persuaded into helping."

"You do remember Katherine's a hundred times stronger than both of us, right? Your plan is pretty flimsy."

"Would you rather just be Klaus's lapdog? You know Katherine better than I do, and you can help me track her." She wiggled invitingly against him. "If you don't have to leave just yet, allow me to convince you how much I want you to go on a road trip with me."

He grinned and brushed his lips over hers. "I stand corrected. Your plan is amazing."

* * *

In the end, it was surprisingly easy to convince Bonnie to perform the spell. She hadn't needed any special coercing, which Damon found mildly disappointing. He wasn't a particular fan of the witch, and he and Elena had spent all morning and early afternoon dawdling in bed and imagining creative ways to force Bonnie to aid them in their search for Katherine. But as it turned out, when they knocked on her door, she readily agreed to help, eager to get revenge against the person who'd killed her boyfriend.

That didn't mean she trusted them. The three of them were gathered on Bonnie's back porch because she refused to invite Damon into her house. The witch was hunched over a grimoire and various magical ingredients and herbs littered the glass table.

Elena perched on the wood railing, absently swinging her legs and studying her fingernails.

Close by, Damon sat on the back of a wooden bench, his booted feet planted on the seat. Sunlight glinted off his black wrap-around Ray-Bans.

As Bonnie was busy making sure she'd memorized the right words for the spell, Elena asked in a flat tone, "Can we hurry up? I'm getting seriously bored. You do _not_ want me to get bored."

Damon understood her sentiment. He'd never liked witches. They made him twitchy. The sooner they had the answers they needed the better. Then they could get the hell out of here. He was starting to feel peckish.

He flashed Elena a wicked smile, promising with a look all the things he'd do when they were alone to alleviate her boredom.

Bonnie scowled. "I've never done this spell before, and I want to get it right."

Elena flapped her arms. "It's just a locator spell. Haven't you done that like a thousand times? It'd been nice to know that we could find Katherine using my blood a long time ago."

"Tell me about it," Bonnie muttered. She raised an eyebrow in Damon's direction. "I still can't believe you're going along with this. Elena doesn't really want to destroy the cure. She never wanted to be a vampire in the first place."

Damon's smile turned brittle, cold as ice. Had she been able to see his eyes through the Ray-Bans, she would have been afraid.

Elena hopped down off her perch on the railing. "Don't talk about me like I can't hear you. You don't know me at all. I _like_ being this way." She grabbed Damon's hand and smiled cutely at him.

Bonnie continued speaking directly to Damon. "It's disgusting that you're taking advantage of her like this."

Damon still didn't respond. As usual the witch had no idea what she was talking about, and he felt no need to defend himself. She didn't know that the sire bond had been broken – he wasn't even sure if Elena had figured it out yet. At any rate, everything that happened between him and Elena happened of her own free will.

Faced with his silence, she appealed to Elena. "How is it possible that you can really forget all of the horrible things that have happened to you? How can you just forget Jeremy?"

Elena pouted. "I didn't forget. I just don't care."

Damon brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it. "That's my girl." He rapped the knuckles of his free hand on the table top. "You," he growled, speaking to Bonnie. "Less judgey and more witchy."

The Bennet witch pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes but glanced back down at her grimoire. "I'll need some of Elena's blood."

Elena bit the heel of her hand and offered up her dripping palm. "Where do you want me?"

Bonnie collected the blood in a wooden bowl and spread out a map of the United States on the table.

Damon laughed. "I guarantee Katherine Pierce is somewhere more exotic than the North American continent."

"Then, I'll get a bigger map if this doesn't work. This was the only one I had on hand," she groused. "Now be quiet and let me concentrate."

She lit a bundle of stinky herbs on fire and began to stir the air with the wafting smoke. She dabbed her finger tips in Elena's blood and flicked them at the map, scattering blood across its surface. She began to chant words that sounded like Latin, but weren't – hey, he was a good Catholic boy.

Damon and Elena leaned in eagerly and watched the blood drops flow in the same direction until they all converged on the same spot.

Elena wrinkled her nose. "Really? Atlanta? I was hoping we'd get to go somewhere fun like Italy or Japan."

Bonnie shrugged, looking a bit exhausted. "That's where she is, assuming the spell worked correctly."

Damon put his arm around Elena and drew her close. "Don't worry. We had fun in Georgia last time, remember?"

She gave him a withering glare. "No, you almost died and I had to save you."

"There's no need to exaggerate." He nuzzled the curve of her throat.

"I'm not," she replied frostily. "Lexi's boyfriend was about to set you on fire and I-"

"Yeah, yeah, let's not rehash all of the details."

"You brought it up."

He shrugged nonchalantly, giving her hair a gentle tug. "Did I? Just remember you're with the fun brother now."

She responded with a small smile and stroked his bottom lip with her thumb.

Bonnie stood abruptly, shoving her chair back and slamming her palms on the table. "I performed the damn spell; I told you where Katherine is. Now leave."

Damon rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. "Come on, Elena, before the fun police arrest us."

Elena looked at Bonnie like she was a bug under a microscope. "Ok, I'm ready to go. I just need a snack for the road."

Using vamp speed, she pounced on the Bennett witch before she had time to defend herself magically and savaged her neck. After a few moments, Elena raised her head and licked her lips. She released Bonnie who fell limply to the ground. The witch was breathing, but only shallowly.

Damn, he was turned on by her ruthlessness. Damon extended his arm towards Elena. "Shall we?"

"You don't want any?"

"I can wait. I want to get this show on the road."

Elena rested her hand in the crook of his elbow and they walked around to the front of the house where they encountered Caroline who was just exiting her car. She looked perfectly put together, not a single hair in her styled hairdo out of place.

"Hi, guys," she said with false cheeriness. Her smile looked like it was frozen on her face. "Are you guys visiting Bonnie?"

"Nope," Damon said. "We were just leaving."

"Together?" Somehow, she managed to sound disapproving without losing the smile.

"Fuck off, Blondie," he sneered. "Isn't there a drag show somewhere missing its queen?"

She ignored him, something she was quite skilled at, he observed irritably. "Elena, how are you feeling?"

"I don't feel anything, which means I've never felt better."

"Hmm. That's nice. So you're hanging out with Damon, now?"

"What's your point, Caroline? Oh, wait, I _don't care_." Elena sounded done with the conversation. He knew he certainly was.

"I just don't know if he's the best role model for you right now. Or ever." A distracted expression spread across her pretty features. "Do you smell blood?"

Elena declared smugly, "Oh, that's Bonnie. I needed a pick-me-up. She could probably use your help so she doesn't bleed out all over her porch. I hear blood stains are a bitch to get out of wood."

Caroline gave the pair an outraged look then vanished around the back of Bonnie's house.

Elena looked immensely pleased with herself. "Whose car do you wanna take?"

"Mine. No way in hell you're driving," Damon asserted.

"Okay, but we do what with my car? I can't just leave it here; Bonnie will probably set it on fire or something."

"Hmm, good point. Give me your keys."

"Why?" she asked suspiciously, though he was pleased when she obeyed him and pressed the small fob into his hand.

"Leave this to the professionals, please." Quick as a wink, he darted out to the sidewalk and intercepted the unlucky jogger passing by just at that moment.

The woman started and yanked her earbuds out. "Can I help you?"

He smiled, and it was incredibly insincere. "Actually, you can. Do you see that little SUV over there?"

"Uh, yeah?" Her eyes darted back and forth between Damon and Elena's car.

He moved closer until he filled her vision, and before she could react, he ensnared her with his compulsion. "I'm going to need you to drive it to the Salvatore mansion for me. Can you do that?"

"Sure, I'll drive it to the Salvatore mansion," she mumbled.

"Okay, then, bye-bye," he commanded brusquely.

She began to turn away.

"Don't forget these." He dangled the keys in front of her and she snagged them before stumbling towards Elena's SUV.

Damon returned to Elena. "There. What would you do without me?"

Elena made a face but settled into the passenger side of his Camaro. Before he could put the key to the ignition, she straddled his thighs and began kissing him. Tossing his sunglasses in the backseat, she slid her fingers through his jet black hair.

Though startled, he found it easy to respond. He could still taste blood on her lips, simultaneously sweet and salty. Combine that with the smell of her arousal filling the small interior of his Camaro and he was rock fucking hard.

Her touch drifted lower until he felt her undoing the fly of his jeans. He captured her wrists and secured her hands against his chest.

He nipped her lip hard enough to draw blood and whispered, "Maybe we should put some distance between us and Mystic Falls first?"

At Elena's disappointed look, he clarified, "I just don't want Caroline showing up ready to stake us. Not that I couldn't handle Buffy the vampire, but I'd rather spend my energy in other ways." He arched his eyebrows suggestively and then grew serious. "There's also a certain Original vampire who's probably looking for me right about now that I'd rather avoid."

"Practically the only reason I wanted you to come with me is so we can have lots of crazy sex."

"Believe me, you and I are on the same page as far that goes. No, the same line, the same fucking _word_. As soon as we put this town in our rear view mirror, lots of crazy sex coming right up. We just need to get out of here first."

When she was reluctantly back in her seat, he reached over and gave her thigh a squeeze, then started the car. Loud music blasted from the speakers, and he turned the knob on his radio until it was at a conversational volume.

Elena immediately reached over and turned it back up.

As he readjusted his sunglasses, he gave her a stern look over the rims. "The first rule of fight club is: You do not touch my radio. And I didn't realize you liked Motorhead."

She leaned back in her seat and stretched her arms overhead, though there wasn't much room, so it mostly consisted of her pressing her hands against the roof. "I do now. Drive."

He grinned broadly and revved his engine. "Let's go catch ourselves an evil slut vampire."


	2. Chapter 2

_This was seriously so much fun to write; Damon Salvatore is my favorite fictional character ever. Hope it's at least a tiny bit of fun to read._ _Listened to two songs on constant repeat while writing this: Of Verona's_ "Dark in My Imagination" _and Ruelle's_ "Monsters"

Harsh buzzing filled the interior of Damon's Camaro.

Elena reached for a cell phone that was vibrating in a cup holder and glanced at the glowing screen, an unpleasant look on her pretty face. She sighed and held it out to him. "Just answer it so he'll stop calling."

The corners of his eyes tightened but he accepted the phone and jammed the slim, black device against his ear. "Someone can't take a hint."

"Damon." To the elder Salvatore, who knew his brother uncomfortably well, it sounded like Stefan was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. His voice was laced with strain. "Where are you right now?"

"Well, hello to you, too, brother. I assume you have a good reason for blowing my phone up like a crazy ex-girlfriend?"

"It sounds like you're driving."

"Very astute, Stefan. Lemmie guess, Klaus is standing right next to you, and he's threatening to go all hybrid on your ass if you don't help him find me." One hand lightly holding the wheel, he navigated easily around a black Lincoln Navigator who was moving way too slowly in the fast lane. Elena lounged in the seat beside him, elbow on the window ledge. After a seven hour drive, Atlanta's skyline was just coming into sight. A cold drizzling rain meant the top was still up, but the many lights of the streets and skyscrapers were easily visible.

Stefan's voice interrupted his concentration. "You can't leave town. Not now."

"Save it. Mystic Falls is but a non-existent speck in my rear view mirror."

"Damon…" Stefan's voice was pained. "Klaus told me what happened…what he _did_ to you. All you have to do is want to turn your humanity back on. Whatever's happened, it's on Klaus, not you."

Klaus's voice piped up in the background. "Just get on with it, why don't you. Tell him to reveal his whereabouts immediately or I'll sever the spine of everyone he cares for."

"Did you hear me, Damon?" His brother continued like Klaus wasn't blustering over his shoulder. "This is not your fault. I know you're angry with me; we both said things we shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

"I'm not interested in your psycho-babble, brother, and Klaus of all people should know that threats against the people I 'care about' don't really apply right now."

"I know it might not seem like it now, but you always care about what's best for Elena. I need your help to find her. She needs us. Her car just showed up mysteriously in the driveway, and I have no idea what that means."

In his peripheral vision, he saw Elena roll her eyes which made him smile. "Well, Elena, what do you think? Should I strap on my hero hair and rent a white horse? Are you in need of some rescuing?"

"Tempting, but I think I'm good."

"See? She's good."

"Wait, is she with you?" Stefan asked in disbelief.

"Yup." He made sure to really pop that 'p' with his lips. "But don't worry. I plan on taking _really_ good care of her."

She stuck her tongue out at him before giggling.

"Damon, where are you and Elena going-"

"Sorry, Stef, gotta run. Tell Klaus to take a hybrid-size chill pill, and you can do us both a favor and stop being such an insufferable pain in my ass." He dropped the phone back into the cup holder with a distasteful look on his face. Jesus, his baby bro was a buzz-kill. He silently dared it to ring again. When it didn't, he was somewhat mollified.

"Where _are_ we going?" Elena inquired, reaching out to fiddle with the dials on his radio.

He slapped her hand away. "Last I checked, we were still headed to Atlanta, hoping Katherine hasn't moved on yet."

"Atlanta's a big city. A lot bigger than Mystic Falls."

"Yes, it is. It's like this: Katherine always tries to insert herself into the upper echelons of society so that she can surround herself with powerful people."

"Like she did in Mystic Falls with your family."

"Exactly," he said and smiled crookedly. "Of course, as we've all now learned the hard way, that's no protection from Originals. We'll start there. But first…" He curled his upper lip and made a gesture that encompassed her from head to toe.

"Excuse me? What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you need some new clothes if you're going to fit in with a bunch of elitist snobs. You look all…," he searched for the right term, "road-trippy."

Her eyes lit up. "We're going shopping?"

He grinned. "Sure, in a manner of speaking."

* * *

"Sooooo….what do you think?" Damon watched Elena emerge from the dressing room in a lacey red cocktail dress. It was fun and flirty, the skirt knee-length and the sleeves descending to her elbows. She was almost painfully vivid, the vibrant red silk a lovely contrast against her skin the same color as richly oiled cedar. Her backdrop only enhanced this impression.

The room they were in was small, a cramped mall store. It had white walls, white floors, a white ceiling, and white furniture. There was no art on the wall or flowers at the register to interrupt the ultramodern, ultra white design, just three full-size mirrors positioned in a horseshoe shape outside the dressing room and a few racks of designer dresses strategically placed around the store. The front was glass and a couple of manikins posed in the windows wearing a sampling of the store's wares. Anybody who walked by would have an easy time looking in. Luckily, it was one in the morning and the mall was closed. Unless, of course, one possessed the ability to magically coerce two mall employees to return afterhours and unlock the doors, turn on the lights, and disable any security cameras and alarms. Compel the mall cops to steer clear and viola! He and Elena had the place to themselves.

Damon briefly set aside the fashion magazine through which he was idly browsing. He rested languidly on one of the diamond-tucked leather couches just outside the fitting rooms, both legs crossed over the arm. He looked like a dark, deadly panther. There was a glass table next to him littered with more magazines. "Turn around." He drew a small circle in the air with his right index finger.

She stuck her arms out parallel to the ground and performed a twirl, looking like an enchanting doll, the dress swirling around her in a frothy crimson wave.

He cocked his head and gazed at her with an appraising eye. Finally, he shrugged and said, "It could show more cleavage."

Elena glared. "You've said that about every single dress I've tried on."

"And I've meant it about every single dress you've tried on." Truthfully, this one did show off a wonderfully decent amount of her sexy legs, but he couldn't bring himself to care which dresses she ended up choosing. It was hard to get excited about her putting on clothes when he knew how delectable she looked without them. If he had his way – something he was determined to have very soon – they would be somewhere with a bed and whenever they got hungry they'd just order in – and eat whoever showed up at the door.

Elena casually stepped over the corpse of a store employee in order to stand before the arc of mirrors to admire her reflection with an unobstructed view. She smoothed her hands along the tight sheer fabric. "I like it. I think it's classy."

"Then why don't you ask the opinion of a professional?" He gestured casually at a terrified woman standing not five feet away. He'd compelled her to stay put and ix-nay on the drama. Her coworker hadn't lasted very long. Acquiring a new wardrobe for Elena was surprisingly thirsty work.

Elena smiled brightly at the lady. "Do you like it?"

"Please don't hurt me," the employee whimpered, no doubt traumatized after witnessing her colleague's violent death.

"The dress," Elena reiterated impatiently, twirling again.

"Please, please, please don't hurt me. Do you want money? I have some. Let me open the safe. Take anything you want from the store. I swear I won't tell anyone."

Damon rose gracefully and approached her. "Come on, don't be tedious. I get hungry when I'm bored." He watched the sales lady's pulse hammer wildly in her neck, the swiftly racing blood singing sweetly to him like a siren's song. He yanked her against him and pressed his lips along the line where her collarbone joined her throat, so pale and warm. "Why don't you just answer her question?"

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she whispered, "It-you look r-really nice."

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he murmured gently. "I bet you're so pretty when you're screaming."

"Damon," Elena cautioned, "don't kill her. You got to kill the last one."

He shook his head and ran his fingers through the employee's badly dyed reddish-blonde hair. The florescent lighting in this place was doing her no favors. "Always nagging. Do you see what I have to put up with?"

Elena rested her hands on her hips, intensifying her annoyed expression. "I mean it. Save me some."

He didn't like following orders. He flashed a cold smile at Elena before sinking his fangs into the sobbing woman's throat.

Elena took a step toward him as if she meant to stop him, and he looked up, blood leaking from the corners of his mouth. "Ah-ah, you get blood on it, you buy it," he cautioned. He enjoyed her piqued look and renewed his bite, letting blood laced with adrenaline and fear endorphins flood his body. He listened to the woman's heart slow before beating a final feeble time. Letting the body drop to the ground, drained of all its blood, he licked his lips with extra relish just to aggravate Elena.

"Seriously? Now I'm hungry." She scowled. "And I hate this dress. Who designs this shit?"

Damon resumed his seat on the couch and returned to thumbing through his magazine while Elena stomped back to the racks to find a different dress to try on. The hangers made little clicking noises as she sorted through them.

"Just take them all," he advised generously. He was in an incredibly good mood. That sales girl packed quite the kick. When a Lady Gaga song came on over the piped-in music station, he began to sing along.

Elena paused mid-swipe to look at him skeptically. "I can't believe you actually know the words to this song."

"There are many things you don't know about me. I'm chock full of surprises." His mouth twisted into a bitter smile.

Elena selected a new dress and made her way back to the mirrors, holding it up to see if she liked the way it looked on her. "I know you're afraid you'll lose me to Stefan if I turn my humanity back on."

Damon snorted. "Not afraid. And I guess we can't all be blessed with beauty _and_ brains."

"Ha. Ha." She disappeared into a dressing room.

Gracefully regaining his feet, he advanced on her like a jungle cat stalking its prey, slipping in behind her with nary a whisper of noise.

"Get out. I'm changing," she snapped peevishly, glowering at his reflection in the mirror on the back wall of the changing room. One of her arms was out of its sleeve, revealing a tempting swath of tan skin.

"I can see that, Captain Obvious." His lips crooked in a half-smile.

"Remind me again why I invited you along?"

"Because I'm the brains of this operation. And I'm irresistible. Adorable like a puppy."

"If you're the brains, this mission is screwed," she retorted dryly.

"I hope you mean that literally." He wrapped his hands around her slim waist and pulled her back against his torso. He brushed aside her lavender-scented hair and planted kisses on the back of her neck, softer than velvet.

He dimly saw Elena roll her eyes at his humor before smiling sexily at him in the mirror. Changing the subject, she asked, "Do you remember that time at the Grill? When we were in the restroom together?"

"I'll need you to be more specific." He furrowed his brow, growing thoughtful. "Huh, it's kind of creepy how often we find ourselves sharing public restrooms."

The partially undressed girl reminded him, "Right before Pastor Young's funeral. When we shared blood." She turned in his arms and popped the collar on his leather jacket.

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" he asked, eyes riveted on her beguiling mouth. Her lips looked like they'd been perfectly designed for sin, and such sinful plans he had for them.

"Well, you do have fresh shopkeeper running through your veins right now," Elena said lightly, her irises shimmering with color.

"You are not wrong." God, he hoped she was implying what he thought she was implying. And he really, _really_ hoped that she was going to bite him somewhere more… _interesting_ than his hand.

She started at his mouth, nipping and drawing blood, then suckling the wound, soothing it with her tongue. He grunted and shoved her into the wall of the fitting room, pinning her with the weight of his body, the delicate swell of her breasts pressing into his chest unbearably erotic.

Without breaking their kiss, she boldly gripped the neckline of his black shirt and rent it straight down the middle. She smoothed her fingers up the roped steel of his torso and out along the broad swell of his shoulders, easing his torn tee and jacket down his arms, the material falling away under her exploring hands.

Laughing, he observed, "It's a good thing I don't pay for shit, 'cause you're hard on a man's wardrobe."

"Damon, shut up."

"Make me," he growled, flaring his incredibly blue eyes. He was enjoying this turn of events. Rough and tumble Elena willing to just take, capable of being more than merely prey, a predator in her own right…. He personally had no objections.

She reversed their position, thrusting him rearward against the wall where the changing mirror hung. It shattered on impact, slivers of glass embedding themselves into his back and shoulders. Honestly, he didn't even notice. Her lips abandoned his to rove lower down his throat on their way to his chest, tongue whispering its way across his pale skin like erotic butterflies. Sensations bombarded him until he sagged against the mirror, heart thundering so hard he feared it would burst through his chest.

A thought wiggled its way through, soft and elusive as a wisp of smoke: _God, I am so in love with this girl -_ wait, what? _Love_? No! He ruthlessly suppressed that offensive thought. Not going to let that creep in. It would only ruin everything. He wasn't ready for this to end. He would _never_ be ready. He summoned back the receding darkness, and it returned, rushing in like a warm tidal wave, permeating and numbing the part of him that was trying to sabotage his pleasure. This monster was not going back in his box.

"Holy shit, Elena," he breathed, closing his eyes and allowing his head to fall back against the dressing room wall with a thud. _Just let it never stop._ "I'm going to bend you over every surface in this store and fuck you until the only word in your vocabulary is my name."

"Pretty sure I just said no talking." She worshipped his frame with her fingertips, admiring the incredible power in every sculpted inch of him, fingernails scraping against the unyielding planes of his body with just the right blend of pleasure and pain. Her hands stilled as they reached rock hard ass muscles. Her lips hesitated just above the waistline of his pants, gently lapping at the last of his exposed skin.

He opened one eye and cocked his head just enough to the side that he could look down at her kneeling body, crouched among discarded dresses and splinters of glass. Using his right hand, he threaded strong fingers through her long straight locks, gripping them tightly in his palm. He gave her hair a firm tug and was rewarded with the sound of a pleased purr. He pulled harder and forced her to look up at him through long, shining lashes. Locking gazes with Elena Gilbert when her face was directly adjacent to his crotch was a sight to behold.

If he were any kind of artist, he'd yearn to capture that look forever on paper – sultry pink lips parted on a gasp; dark, haunting eyes locked with his; the faintest blush creeping across delicate cheekbones; hair pulled back from her face, tangled silken strands wrapped tautly around his fist. He could get used to this – _very_ easily.

Her hands tightened their grip on his ass, fingertips pressing into his flesh with urgency. He responded to her silent request by granting some slack in his grip. When he did so, she softly rubbed her nose in the crisp black hairs that lightly trailed their way from his naval to disappear under his slacks.

In the next moment, her face turned and she pressed a single kiss against his hipbone. Her tongue traced an indention in his flesh, that muscular half of the _V_ on his abdomen which pointed the way to all the good stuff. He knew she could hear the fresh blood coursing through him, hot and potent.

She hissed softly and a delirious moan escaped him as her fangs glided through that clearly delineated ridge of muscle. Decadent moments slipped past while his stomach muscles twitched and leapt beneath the greedy pull of her lips. He felt it when her bite deepened, and his pleasure intensified. It was simultaneously too much and not even close to enough.

One of his hands descended to rub absent-mindedly over that part of himself that ached for attention, and then he retightened his hold on the back of her head so he could pull her off cause he was ready to have sex – he was _always_ ready to have sex with her – but she pulled away of her own accord and swiveled to look at the dressing room door.

"Did you hear something?" she asked.

"What? No, I didn't hear anything. A little distracted." He tugged her back towards him. Her skin was warmed by the blood she'd drunk from him, and he wanted to lose himself in that heat.

She resisted him and stood, slipping back into both sleeves of her dress. "Okay, I definitely just heard something."

"Elena," he exclaimed, exasperated, "the mall's closed. There's no one here."

Despite his perfectly sound reasoning, Elena walked out to investigate.

Okay, being abandoned in a frustratingly painful state of need was definitely not the direction he'd envisioned this scenario heading. If there really was someone out there, they were about to die a violent, bloody death. Damon took a moment to compose himself and put his clothes back together – which didn't really work out well, since his shirt was ripped, his back was full of glass, and his pants were uncomfortably tight in the front.

Suddenly, there was a loud thump and a strangled yelp.

He poked his head out of the dressing room and saw Rebekah Mikaelson. She was on the ground over Elena, holding her by the throat. The younger vampire struggled furiously. "Get off me!"

"Katherine, you doppelganger bitch, you stole my cure. Tell me where it is." Rebekah's eyes dilated as she attempted to compel her.

"I'm on vervain," Elena spat contemptuously, "your compulsion won't work on me."

"Goodie. I guess I get to torture you, then."

Damon bent to retrieve his leather jacket off the ground and shook it heartily to scatter any glass fragments hiding in its folds. He slipped it back on and emerged fully from the small cubicle, lips crooked and arms crossed. "Mmm, sexy Bexy, please tell me you're here to fulfill my fantasy of being the meat in a kinky vampire sandwich." The glare she skewered him with instantly nixed that idea. "No? Ok, well, I also enjoy some good girl on girl torture. There's just one problem: that's not Katherine. I can see why you'd think that though," he added, masking his surprise: for some reason, Rebekah was here in Atlanta. Not the most fortuitous turn of events…unless he could somehow turn her presence to their advantage. Well, if anyone could manipulate the hell out of this desperate girl, it was him.

Rebekah pursed her lips and sat up, though she did not relinquish her grip on Elena. "You expect me to believe this is your beloved Elena, for whom you'd move heaven and earth in order to prevent her from getting a hangnail?"

"I would have before your dick of a brother made it so I wouldn't care about anything at all."

"You're just going to let me torture her?" She sounded hopeful.

"I could stop you how?" He smiled in a self-deprecating manner.

"Good point."

"As long as I get to watch, of course." While Rebekah's gaze slid back to the enraged Elena with glee, he thought furiously. Rebekah was strong enough to take down Katherine and keep her down. He'd been struggling with that part of the plan. It was one thing to find the bitch and another to keep her contained. "Unless…" he began, trailing off with a cunning expression.

Rebekah rolled her eyes and exhaled audibly. "Unless _what_ , Damon?"

"Might I be so bold as to suggest an alternative?"

The blonde girl grimaced. "I'm listening. Though it had better be good if I'm going to forgo torturing the girl who stabbed me in the back. Literally."

"Let it go already," Elena snarled.

Damon continued. "I assume you're here for the same reason we are: Katherine's in town. Feel like trading up doppelgangers? I mean, we are all working toward the same end. Common sense says…" he trailed off.

"Common sense says you'll just betray me like you did the last time. No thanks, I'll pass."

"Except this time we don't want the cure for ourselves. There's no reason to betray you. You can keep it, pinky swear." Damon endeavored to look innocent. Not his easiest look.

"I believe _you_ don't want it, Damon, you have the most to lose." She looked down her nose at her captive. "But Elena wants it."

Elena smirked. "Wrong, guess again."

The pretty Original stared at her hard for a moment and then a lazy half-smile spread across her glossy pink lips. "So, you turned off your humanity. Good for you. Maybe now you'll be slightly less dull than you were before."

"Look, Rebekah," Damon interrupted, plopping back down on a couch. He interlaced his fingers and stretched his arms behind his head. "Frankly, I don't give a damn what you do. Help us or not, just hurry up and make a decision. We were kind of in the middle of something."

The cure represented the only hope this gorgeous, hopelessly romantic girl possessed. Without it, she'd never achieve what she desired most: a chance to be human and live out a human life. No way was she just walking away from that. He snorted quietly, unable to empathize. Like being young and strong forever was such a tragedy. Whatever, he just hoped that she would see the benefit in pooling their resources. He waited with half-lidded eyes.

Damon saw the moment she made up her mind. It was apparent in the set of her shoulders. She sighed and released her hold on Elena who whooshed up and across the room, out of her reach. "Fine. What dreary task do you have in mind?"

"We just need to locate Katherine, eyes peeled and all that mumbo-jumbo."

"I still don't understand what's in it for you? Couldn't you just let Katherine keep the cure and never risk your precious Elena at all?"

He grinned and gestured to Elena who moved to stand beside him. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, darting a smile at Rebekah. "I'll give you three guesses, and the answer starts with _sss_ and ends with – _ex_."

A rude sound emerged from the depths of Rebekah's throat. "You're both disgusting, you know that? Anyway, finding Katherine should be easy. Here." She pulled out her phone and swiped across the screen. His sensitive ears picked up the sound of dialing. And then to his absolute horror, Klaus's voice.

"Rebekah! My favorite sister."

Rebekah's smile was cruel and beautiful. "Niklaus, _not_ my favorite brother. How long would it take you to get to Atlanta? Damon and Elena are here and they are _hot_ on Katherine's trail."

Damon leapt to his feet and tried to grab her phone but she spun away deftly.

He missed how Klaus responded, but Rebekah said, "Perfect, see you soon," into the phone and hung up.

"What the hell?" he growled. The last thing he wanted was Klaus's interference. Or even his simple presence.

"You said you wanted my help," she reminded him, slipping the slim phone into a back pocket.

"Ok, we need to review your definition of helping, because that was the complete opposite! He's not gonna let you get your grubby mitts on the cure when he wants it for himself! Why would you work with him?"

"Let me handle Niklaus," she assured him. "No one knows Katherine better than my brother, not even you Salvatores."

* * *

"I'm still confused how this is supposed to help us find Katherine."

Damon smiled condescendingly down at Elena and widened his eyes inquisitively. "So many questions. You wanted to have fun, right?"

"Yes, but-"

"No more talking. Let's dance."

He pulled her body against his. Melting, she wrapped her arms around his neck and moved with him as if they were one. Her long brown hair cascaded down her back, and though she wore no makeup, her skin was luminous and her eyes shone fiercely. She was stunning in a skin-tight mango-red dress, and she danced knowing that she was stunning and that everyone who gazed upon her coveted her. But he wasn't threatened in the least. Everyone might be lusting after this radiant, beautiful girl – something he could certainly understand – but he was secure in the knowledge that not a single person here could satisfy her dark side like he could. As long as he continued to sate that dark, dangerous, wanton part of her that had come out to play, she was his.

They danced for a while, hearts beating in sync to the bass-heavy electronic music. It was College Night, so they were surrounded by hundreds of young, energetic people who all looked good enough to eat. He had brought her here to this club for distraction and entertainment until Klaus arrived. He'd thought briefly about dipping out and trying to elude Rebekah, but the she-devil had stuck to them like fleas on a hybrid, uttering dire threats on a constant loop should they attempt to flee. She assured him that Klaus only wanted to talk, but he didn't trust her or Klaus. So he figured this was the best course – have some fun while waiting to see what Klaus wanted, which hopefully did not involve another round of torture. He had his fingers crossed on that one.

Her arms tightened around his neck. "Klaus is here."

He glanced back over his shoulder and saw the Original standing beside his sister at one of the crowded wooden bars surrounding them on three sides. They both waved mockingly. How cute.

"Damon-" Elena began and he felt her stiffen against him.

"Relax," he soothed, "I'll just go find out what he wants. I won't let him get anywhere near you." How he was going to keep that promise, he wasn't sure, but he was a master of improvisation.

He reluctantly disentangled himself from the warmth and suppleness of his beautiful companion and began making his way over to them. Elena remained on the floor and he knew she wouldn't lack for willing dance partners.

He glided through the crowded mass of humanity, and women and sometimes men stopped to stare at him with his straight nose and full, sensual lips, his high cheekbones and glacial blue eyes gleaming with Dionysian madness. His pale skin looked flawless and lights from the chandelier hanging overhead - classy place - glinted in hair the same shade as a raven's wing on a moonless night. A few of his bolder admirers put themselves directly in his path, no doubt hoping he'd stop to dance or just wanting to quickly touch him. He brushed past them all nimbly. He had eyes for none of them, focused only on the Mikaelson siblings waiting so patiently at the bar as he approached.

Klaus stood there in tailored pants and a maroon v-neck sweater made of cashmere. He looked utterly like he belonged in this club: urbane, sophisticated, and loaded with old world money.

"Just the thousand year old Viking hybrid freak I wanted to see – not," Damon said in a surly tone, giving Rebekah a reproachful stare. She was dressed in tight little blue number and looked as at home as Klaus, projecting her own aura of power and wealth.

She responded with a playful smile and Klaus commented, "Such hostility when we both know you should be thanking me. Enjoying the lovely Elena?"

"So, that whole 'can't-be-killed' thing you've got going on, does it still apply if I shove you into a wood chipper?" Damon quipped.

Rebekah choked and spit into the drink she was sipping on. When Klaus looked at her with betrayal stamped across his features, she said defensively, "Oh, come on, Nik, he might be a rat bastard, but that was funny."

"Rebekah, why don't you go keep an eye on Elena and let us boys talk," Klaus proposed, throwing an arm companionably across Damon's shoulders. "I'm sure Damon would not be pleased if his beautiful date were to turn up missing."

"Fine, Niklaus, I'll be your babysitter for now, but if you torture him again, I get to help."

"You have my word," he said smoothly, and Rebekah made her way onto the dance floor.

Klaus led Damon upstairs to the club's second level. The elder vampire selected a private booth which was already occupied. He kicked everyone out and directed Damon to sit across from him. Damon waited impatiently while the Original ordered bottle service from the drink girl: their finest scotch, a special reserve cask. Once that was handled and a full bottle of scotch sat on the table waiting to be drunk, Klaus leaned back against the red cushions and turned to him, crystal tumbler in hand. "Tell me, Damon, do you know why I'm here?"

"Because you're annoying?"

Chuckling indulgently, Klaus replied, "I want to make a deal."

"Shouldn't we be standing at a crossroads when you ask me that?" He knew he should probably dial down the snark, but, well, where was the fun in that?

"You know, I was hoping we could go about this in a friendly manner, but if you'd prefer the hard way, by all means…" Klaus spread his arms and shrugged.

Damon smirked. "Yeah, the hard way didn't work out like you planned, did it?"

Klaus shook his head slowly as if trying to reason with a small child. "Do you honestly believe that I didn't know exactly what you would do once I sent you after Elena?" Klaus's eyes glowed like twin evil flames. "Do you really think I misspoke when I compelled you?"

"You knew we'd go after Katherine; you were counting on it," Damon said bitterly. "You never even needed Elena's blood."

"What I needed was for you to locate Katherine. Just put the idea in your head and let you two have at it. Minions and all that," the ancient Original said, reminding Damon of his role as a pawn. He ground his teeth until his jaw ached. The reckless and impulsive side of him wanted to jump up and flip the table at Klaus – preserving in the process the expensive scotch of course – and then follow that up with a chair to the head. He hated feeling like a pawn. First, Katherine had made him a pawn in her game with his brother, and now Klaus was doing the same thing in his game to find Katherine. He made a mental note to start avoiding people whose names began with K.

Damon forced his expression to remain neutral and barely managed to convince himself that giving into his impulse to smash and cause chaos would be a bad idea. "Gee, that sounds like a plan predicated on a lot of what-ifs and maybes. Awfully risky, don't you think."

Klaus leaned back and arched his eyebrows. "Tell me where I went wrong. I know I've said it before, but you're so incredibly predictable."

"You are one convoluted bastard. I bet there never was a witch, either."

"Of course there was a witch. She just lacked the spell, which frankly I wasn't even sure existed, but Miss Bennett found a way to make it happen."

"I don't suppose it ever occurred to you to just ask Bon-Bon yourself."

Klaus laughed, and the sound of it was sharp. "Let's just say the witch and I have a complicated relationship. She'd never willingly help me. Besides, does it really matter? We both win in the end. You have Elena – and if we're being honest we both know this is probably the only chance you'll get with her - and soon I'll have Katherine and the cure. Oh, and I got to slice you repeatedly with knives. I fail to see a downside."

The raven-haired Salvatore curled his lip and the corners of his eyes tightened. "I don't like you."

Klaus grinned in delight, displaying even white teeth. "I bet you and Elena imagined yourselves so clever, outwitting me and all. Know this, Damon, I am always one step ahead."

As Damon pondered how he'd been played, he took a moment to look out over the sea of people dancing, laughing, and drinking below them. They had no idea that a group of supernatural serial killers disguised in the bodies of young adults moved amongst them.

His keen eyes spotted Elena and Rebekah taking turns feeding from a young man on the dance floor. The shadowy atmosphere and the fact that almost everyone was drunk or high allowed their sinister actions to go unregistered by those nearby. It was nice to see those two crazy girls getting along. Good for them.

"So what's your brilliant plan?" Damon inquired, tensing like a soldier who knew the deathblow was imminent.

"You'll subdue and deliver Katerina to me, and as a gesture of goodwill, I'll allow you to keep Elena."

He snorted and shot his adversary a look of complete disbelief. "Oh, yeah, cause that's easy. I remember how much luck you had corralling _that_ pony."

Klaus looked down into his drink and smirked. "You'll probably recall that delightful little spell you lot used against me, you know the one where you stopped my heart so I'd desiccate."

Damon allowed a smile to creep across his face and asked innocently, "Oh, you mean that time we beat you?"

"Did you, Damon? It's true, inhabiting Tyler Lockwood's body was not my finest hour. But as I recall, there were some perks, one being that Caroline was quite partial to that adolescent prison."

Damon waved his hand between them in a warding motion. "Okay, you know what, enough. Now I need to sandpaper my brain. Is there a point or are you just intent on destroying my buzz? If that's the case, congratulations, you've succeeded." He was done with this conversation; he wanted it finished. The sight of Elena now grinding with abandon against some poor sap was putting him in mind of other much more pleasurable pursuits.

"I've asked your brother many times whether you're really as mentally deficient as you seem; I honestly can't tell." Klaus leaned over and shoulder bumped Damon, all chummy like they were friends. Damon indulged in the brief fantasy of cutting out Klaus's internal organs one by one and forcing the bastard to eat them until he choked.

Klaus continued on, oblivious. "I'm going to use the desiccation spell on Katerina, and you're going to help me." He gestured to a lovely young woman standing maybe fifteen feet away who waved and raised her martini glass to him. "I already have my witch. Now if only I had a fool willing and able to get close enough to Katerina so the spell could be employed." He smiled sidelong at Damon, whispering, "It'll save us both some time if you just go ahead and volunteer."

"Again, I'm left wondering why me?" His back straightened and he leaned across the table to grab the liquor bottle and top up his drink.

"Rebekah and I won't be able to get close without spooking her." Klaus gestured for Damon to fill him up as well. Damon ignored him and set the bottle down. Hybrid freak could pour his own damn alcohol.

"Ah, right, complicated relationship," Damon murmured, swirling his scotch in his cut-crystal glass. He sipped it appreciatively, but he still wished it was bourbon. Another strike against the Original. "What makes you think I'll have any better success?"

"Because you Salvatores are like kryptonite to Petrova doppelgangers." Klaus's smile was harsh and ironic.

"Wow, impressive pop cultural reference, Klaus. But you seem to have forgotten that Katherine prefers my brother." Damon's flat tone betrayed nothing. Certainly not resentment.

"I possess something she'd very much like to have back. You'll use it against her, and it will allow you to overwhelm her enough that you'll be able to get near her and lay your hands on her."

The dark Salvatore raised dark eyebrows. "Wanna be less cryptic?"

"All in due time. For now, you'll just have to trust me."

"Is that supposed to be a joke?"

Klaus asked impatiently, "Do we have a deal or not?"

Damon leaned closer, perching his elbows on the edge of the thick wooden table in order to better study the Original's face. It chaffed big time that he had to play ball with Klaus when what he really wanted to do was snatch Elena and take her far away from here. They could spend a few centuries getting high on blood and sadism, hunting together, bloodletting endlessly, fucking themselves into a stupor…. He would make sure she never missed the loss of her humanity, and he could avoid the trauma of being passed over for his brother yet again. "Say your brilliant plan works. Then what? I just hand Katherine over to you?"

Klaus quirked his lips and regarded him with bemusement. "Hmm, I must say, you surprise me. I believed you had truly settled on Elena. But if it's Katerina's allure that still beckons-"

Damon cut him off abruptly. "I don't have feelings for Katherine. I don't have feelings for anything, remember?" His eyes flared hostilely, and he took a pointed swig of his drink. It wasn't that he disliked being this way: emotionless, conscience-free, unaffected by all the downsides of humanity. It simply grated that Klaus had forced it on him, removing in essence his free will. And it grated even more that he enjoyed the outcome of Klaus's high-handedness. Now he could be with Elena and not give a lick for the consequences. He didn't have to worry how his brother felt; he didn't have to worry how Elena felt; hell, he didn't have to worry how _he_ felt. But it didn't lessen his animosity toward the bastard one iota. He suddenly understood much more profoundly Stefan's previous suicidal crusade to destroy Klaus for the sin of depriving him of his free will.

"Ah, yes, quite," Klaus concurred. "So you'll do this for me, and don't worry about Katerina. I'll see to it that she receives the best of care." His smile was sinister. "And in return, I'll leave you and Elena alone forever. You have my word." He gave an imperious wave of his hand. Probably trying to look magnanimous, but he just looked like an asshole.

Damon took a long moment to think, and Klaus's face grew ever more sullen and baleful by the second. The difficulty was he didn't have a better plan. In fact, he had no plan. Locating Katherine was one thing; getting what he needed out of her was something else entirely. That didn't mean he had to be pleased about this continued association with Klaus. In that moment, he resolved that he'd play nice for now, but at the first opportunity, he'd find a way to fuck Klaus over. No way was the bastard going to get everything he wanted.

Finally, cautiously, he said, "If you agree that Elena and I _never_ have to look over our shoulders for you, _and_ I never have to listen to you talk ever again, then I'll do it. But there's still the teensy problem of actually locating her."

Rebekah suddenly slid into the booth next to Klaus. "Alright, time's up. I'm done looking after Elena. Your girlfriend's mean," she said with a pouty look at Damon.

His eyes shot up to scan for Elena. She was standing close by, hanging back, having followed Rebekah but obviously leery of getting too close to Klaus.

Klaus opened his mouth to respond to Rebekah when Elena asked, "Uh, why is Katherine on TV?"

All three vampires in the booth instantly riveted their gazes to the multiple screens above the second-level bar. One showed a horse race, one a basketball game, and the last was airing some ET show about the young, rich, and up-and-coming in Atlanta.

A tall, Channing Tatum-type blonde man was walking down the red carpet, laughing and joking as paparazzi shoved mics in his face. And there, doing her best to go unnoticed, was Katherine Pierce, bouncing curls, smoky eyes, and all. She hung onto his arm like delicious eye candy and made a good go at turning her head away and trying not to be recognized. But Damon would know that body, that walk, that tilt of her head anywhere. And he suspected the same was true of Klaus.

As if he had heard his thoughts, Klaus smirked and clinked his glass against a stunned Damon's. "Oh, I bet she turns up sooner than you think."

* * *

Damon pinched the bridge of his nose, then shoved his fingers through the mass of ebony locks curling along his temples. Scowling, he glanced at his phone for what felt like the millionth time in the last ten minutes. He was seriously just sitting around waiting for Klaus to call or text him, like some fucking errand boy.

Granted, he was waiting in the nicest suite of the fanciest hotel in downtown Atlanta, and earlier in the day he and Elena had christened every surface of the suite with their straining, glistening bodies so thoroughly that they broke quite a few – the hotel would have to invest in a new desk and some curtain rods would need to be replaced -so it could definitely be worse. But not much, he thought darkly. Being forced to abide by Klaus's schedule definitely ranked as a downer. Klaus's stupid witch needed to hurry up and locate Katherine's newest rich boy toy.

He threw the phone down beside him on the bed and readjusted the pillow behind his head and recrossed his ankles the opposite way, not even caring that his boots were lying on a goose-down duvet that probably cost enough to give most people sticker shock. He snuck a glance at his phone again, willing the screen to start glowing with the arrival of an incoming call or text. Nope, still nothing.

God, he couldn't wait until this was over and he could take Elena far away from this annoying thing that had become his life and they could live it up the way two attractive immortal creatures were meant to.

The shower running in the bathroom abruptly cut off and a few moments later, Elena emerged in a cloud of steam. There was a towel wrapped around her torso, and her long brown hair clung together in wet bunchy curls down her back and across her collar bone.

Damon watched her saunter over to her side of the bed through slitted eyes. Hmm, he could probably come up with something to take his mind off this frustration with Klaus.

She began to sort through several plastic bags, the fruits of their illicit shopping trip, and he idly studied a single drop of water that slid from behind her ear, then down the elegant column of her throat, and over the boney ledge of her collar bone before finally descending between the inviting swell of her pert breasts where it disappeared under her towel. Lucky droplet, he mused.

Elena eventually settled on an outfit and removed it from the rustling bags, but something else had already caught his eye. He flipped onto his stomach and slithered towards her, pulling himself along on his elbows. "Hold up, time out," he demanded, snagging a bright blue and white cloth and dangling it towards her on one finger. "What is this?" he asked mischievously.

"Gee, Damon, I thought you of all people would recognize a cheerleading uniform."

"Oh, I recognize it. My question is why do you have one?"

"Well, I didn't know if we would need disguises," she commented airily. "You know, in case our mission to catch Katherine requires us to go undercover."

"Uh-huh," he said in a disbelieving tone. "I think the point of a disguise is to deflect attention, not guarantee that every single guy with his eyesight intact is salivating over you."

Elena shrugged playfully. "Or, you know, whatever. Maybe we could use it for some kinky sex games." Smiling slyly, she turned and headed back to the bathroom.

Damon's face went slack and his lips parted as he watched her walk away. Yes, that was what he wanted. Sexy Elena in a sexy cheerleading outfit. _Right now_.

Damon zipped in front of her, bringing her to an unexpected halt. "Naughty girl," he rumbled in a deep voice, yanking the outfit she'd chosen out of her hands and throwing it behind him. Where it ended up he couldn't have cared less. "This is what you're wearing," he ordered huskily, pressing the tiny garment into her now empty hands.

"Oh, yeah?" she responded archly. "I'm not sired to you anymore. I don't have to do what you tell me."

Mental eye roll. Oh, goody, she'd figured it out. "Is that a challenge?"

"Aren't we supposed to be waiting for Klaus to contact us?"

"You won't be wearing it long. Put. It. On." His tone was velvet steel, warm and deep but unbending, brooking no argument. With a smoldering look, she slipped past him and disappeared, bathroom door closing gently behind her.

He removed his shirt and resumed his horizontal arrangement on the bed and waited eagerly, already semi-hard in anticipation.

"Hey, Damon?" Her voice filtered through the door.

"Yes?"

"Underwear or no?"

Okay, now he was rigid like iron, instantly aching. "No underwear," he growled in answer.

Seconds later, Elena reemerged, sashaying her exquisite hips, wearing only the slimmest blue top tied across her bosom and a skirt that didn't even completely cover her sweet curvy ass. She'd even tied her damp hair into a pony tail, he noted, appreciating how it really pulled the outfit together.

"You like?" she asked him impishly, eyes glittering brightly like stars.

"Go, team, rah," he murmured encouragingly. If anyone had ever been designed to fill out a cheerleading uniform, it was Elena Gilbert.

"So," she continued in a low voice, "how do you want me?"

 _On your knees in front of me, my dick so far down your throat you gag. Bent over this bed, ass in the air, cheeks stinging red with my handprints. On your back, legs wrapped around my waist as I pound into you and sink my teeth into your flesh. Begging me not to stop; panting for more._ As those different scenarios flickered through his mind, his eyes grew heavy-lidded and the corners of his mouth curled upwards wickedly. "Surprise me."

With a 'cat that just ate the canary' look, she moseyed toward him until she stood at the edge of the bed. Stretching her arms straight overhead, she leaned first to the right, then over to the left, captivating him with an expanse of smooth tan stomach. She lowered her arms and clasped her hands behind her back, arching her back so that her breasts jutted forward, straining her small top.

Damon found himself sitting up. _Mmm, mmm, MMM._ Really was amazing how she seemed to know just the right way to look at him, just the right way to move and walk to turn his insides into a quivering pile of lust. For so long he'd had to deny himself. It felt so damn good to want and to know that he could take.

Elena continued her stretching routine, placing one long, graceful leg on the bed. He watched as she slid a hand up her sculpted calf until she could grab her toes. She lifted the leg up, up, up until it was parallel with her torso, simultaneously demonstrating amazing flexibility and an eyeful of the part of Elena that wasn't wearing any underwear.

Fisting his hands in the duvet, he ground his teeth. This little minx drove him completely wild.

She relinquished her hold on her toes and her foot floated with control back to the floor. Running her fingers along the outline of her top, she bit her full bottom lip and looked at him through silky lashes. She began to pull one side of the knot holding her top together, inch by unbearable inch.

Distantly, it registered that his phone was vibrating. Klaus could definitely wait. He shoved the cell phone under a pillow to muffle any further communications. He did not want Elena to get distracted.

"Off," he commanded, impatient and no longer willing to wait.

She obliged him, her top fluttering to the ground, and he was left with the glorious vision of Elena's bare breasts, high and full, dusky pink tips puckering temptingly under his hooded gaze.

"Come here," he instructed in the same authoritative manner.

She obeyed instantly, and he could tell that she was enjoying their game. Crawling up the bed towards him, she straddled him, soft inner thighs pressing against his rougher, material-clad ones, and rested her hands lightly on his shoulders. Her clean, delicious scent enveloping him, he gave her a scorching look full of promise before pressing his lips first to one divine breast and then the other. His fingers slid up her thighs from behind, finding their way under her skirt and to that place of hers that was so sweet and wet. So hot.

She moaned and closed her eyes, shivering. He watched goose bumps race their way across her arms.

For a moment, he debated whether he wanted to screw her with the little skirt on or off. On the one hand, it'd be totally hot to take her while she was still wearing it. On the other, naked Elena was perfection and didn't require any improvement. His hand stilled and he repeated, "Off."

She made a sound of protest deep in her throat, but he leaned away, giving her no choice but to do as he said.

In the blink of an eye, she'd shimmied out of her tiny skirt and it met the fate of her previously discarded top. Elena Gilbert now hovered over him, completely, magnificently nude. With pupils dilated in arousal, she gripped the hand he'd just used to explore her thoroughly and brought it to her face. She sucked his finger into her mouth, wet, pink lips like a suction cup, and circled it with her talented little tongue. Desire slammed into him and a predator's impulses surged – savage, feral, he would take her _now_.

He didn't give her any warning, just flipped her beneath him, face down into the bedspread. He ground his hips against that perky ass and rained kisses along her shoulder blades.

She writhed approvingly, thrilled and excited by his forcefulness, and squealed, "Damon!"

His tongue laved the small valleys along her spine and his broad hands cupped her hips, lifting her lower body up off the bed. He used his knees to urge her thighs apart and he sat up, hands on his fly, preparing to get rid of any barriers between him and Elena.

His focus on her was so complete, he was completely dumbfounded when she vanished, yanked from sight. He heard her squeal again, only this time is was not a sexy squeal, but rather a pained, infuriated squeal. Looking up, he saw Rebekah binding Elena's hands with vervain ropes on the other side of the bed.

"Seriously?" he snapped. "What the fuck are you doing?" He went straight from zero to homicidal rage. Cock blocking bitch _again_! He wished he'd never even _heard_ of a Mikaelson.

The look she shot him was withering. "Sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"I told you that I would let you know when it was a good time." He spat the words at her like bullets.

Rebekah gave the knots she was tying together a vicious yank. "You are aware I can hear you, right? You're insane if you think I'm going to stand in the hallway and listen to you two pant like mangy curs in heat."

"Damon, help me!" Elena twisted frantically in a bid to escape her bonds, but the Original was now attending to her ankles, and he could hear as her flesh sizzled at the touch of vervain.

He closed his eyes and scrubbed his face with one hand, seeking a modicum of composure. "Sorry, babe, this was the plan all along; _someone_ was just supposed to wait until I said so."

"Nik texted you that he was ready to proceed. Didn't you check your phone?" Rebekah asked.

He resentfully retrieved his phone from under the pillow and looked at it. "He's already waited a thousand years, Rebekah. He couldn't wait another fifteen minutes?"

"I think that's a bit overly generous, don't you?" The pretty girl smiled, baring sharp fangs.

Still struggling to resist her bonds, Elena wailed, "Damon, you promised that we were doing this together! You have to take me with you!"

"Nope, this mission, I'm flying solo." Elena was too much of an unknown, a loose cannon, an undefined variable to risk taking along. He was going to succeed on the first try, one and done. He believed he'd have far better success if Elena wasn't tagging along, interfering with and antagonizing his prey. Klaus obviously agreed that she shouldn't take part in Katherine's capture for insurance purposes. Why risk both of the only vampires who could ensure the creation of his hybrid army just in case something backfired? Rebekah, well…she had some sort of arrangement with her brother and had agreed to keep watch over Elena. He'd just thought that she'd wait for his signal. Like after he'd had his temporary fill of Elena's hot little body and she was asleep. Sigh. Whatever, he'd manage with the hand he'd been dealt. This way he could deliver Katherine and the cure to Klaus and then come back, scoop up Elena, and carry her off into a bloody, hedonistic sunset. The stuff fucking fairy tales were made of.

He stood and shrugged into his shirt, striding toward the door. "Put a sheet on her or something."

"Mhmm," Rebekah agreed absently. "I'll take it into consideration."

"No, Damon, Katherine is mine! Don't leave me like this!" When he failed to turn around or react in the slightest, she appealed to Rebekah. "You're seriously just going to let him do this?"

The blonde girl's lips pursed. "Sometimes you have to crack a few eggs to catch a doppelganger."

Damon slowed his momentum and twisted in the doorway to say, "Skulls."

"What?"

"Wouldn't your metaphor make more sense if you said skulls instead of eggs?" His eyes twinkled, knowing he was pointlessly needling Rebekah, but he couldn't help it. The girl was definitely on top of his current shit list.

She drew herself off the bed where Elena lay squirming futilely and sneered, "Funny, I don't remember asking for your opinion."

As he shrugged nonchalantly, Elena managed to draw her knees to her chest and roll over so that she was on all fours. He couldn't help but admire the way her trussed arms squished her breasts together delightfully. She raged at him, "If you do this, Damon, there is no version of me that will _ever_ forgive you."

Rebekah rolled her eyes. "Oh, bloody hell, shut up." She reached out and casually snapped the enraged girl's neck. Elena's ponytail whipped around and she collapsed on the bed like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. The Original said to her prone form, "Don't get your panties in a twist, lamb. It's not like you're the only one he's manipulated and betrayed with sex before."

Hand on the door frame, he looked back and winked. "Huh, yeah, I guess that's kinda my thing." Well, he had learned from the best, and now it was time for a reckoning with that same manipulative, deceitful bitch. With a cocky grin, he departed. _Show time, little miss Katherine._


	3. Chapter 3

Damon waited patiently as the private elevator hurtled all the way to the top of the skyscraper.

Katherine's special man-friend hung limply under his arm. The dead beau was dressed in a pinstripe grey suit, no doubt on his way to work when Damon intercepted him as he stepped from his elevator into the parking garage. Trickling blood stained the white collar of his dress shirt and almost matched the eye-catching burgundy red tie he wore.

An ounce of witch's blood coursed through his system, the binding agent necessary to link him to Klaus's witch for the desiccation spell, and a certain small object hung near his heart in the inside pocket of his jacket. It was probably just his imagination, but it felt improbably heavy.

He still had no idea what it was. He'd _seen_ it, but he didn't understand how it would help him against Katherine. He really hoped this wasn't going to turn out to be some lame manifestation of Klaus's poor humor. He couldn't think of any reason the Original might be setting him up, but one never knew.

The elevator door pinged and glided open. Before entering, he took a moment to survey the lay of the land. He listened carefully, reassured when he heard only a single heartbeat. Good, no loose ends.

He stepped from the elevator and entered a penthouse of unimaginable opulence. Through a small foyer area he saw a huge room with couches, the kind that were for decoration and not sitting, and floor to ceiling windows. Quite the view of Atlanta's impressive skyline.

He cocked his head and listened hard again, trying to pinpoint the location of the heart he'd detected.

Walking out to the living room area, he looked left. Leaning on the kitchen's enormous beige marble center island was Katherine, clearly visible and shooting him a cool look. She was dressed in an oversized man's button-down navy silk shirt and nothing else, leaving bare her legs from mid-thigh on down. Her hair was slightly mussed. Thoughgh still styled in her customary flowing, wavy ringlets, it appeared as if someone had been running their fingers through it. Or as if she'd just woken up. Her fingers rested in the loop of a white coffee mug. If Damon didn't know better, he'd think she was merely an extraordinarily pretty girl who'd just climbed out of bed, going about her daily morning routine. He'd never seen her so vulnerable-looking, not even in 1864.

"Damon." His name fell from her lips like it was a bad word.

He looked around in admiration. "Nice, Kitty-kat, it's like you live in an episode of Gossip Girl." He hefted the body of her former companion up before letting him fall to the ground. "You wouldn't happen to have a trash can, by chance?"

"You're a special kind of stupid if you think it wise to make a habit of killing my … _friends_." Though the expression on her face remained fixed, her voice descended to a throaty growl, much deeper and flatter than Elena's.

"Oh, did you want him back? Sorry, I have trouble keeping track of all your boy-toys."

She turned, picking up her coffee mug and bringing it to her lips. Her hip rested against the marble counter. Remembering what she had once meant to him, Damon took the opportunity to study her. He tried to pick out what exactly had made him so blindly in love with her; he was curious if any trace of the girl he'd once idealized so completely remained. Didn't look like it.

"So your Klaus's messenger boy, now?" she asked demurely. "Between that and rescuing the helpless Elena all the time, I wonder where you find the time to be such a pain in my ass." Her smile was cutting.

"Good, you already know why I'm here. Saves us a bunch of uncomfortable chit-chat."

As if he hadn't spoken, she queried, "How is that going by the way? Any luck pretending to be Elena's knight in shining armor? It must be so difficult always trying to live up to Stefan."

"Well, seeing as she's currently in my bed, I'd say it's going pretty great."

Katherine narrowed her eyes. "No, you never get the girl. There must be something else." She looked him up and down in a blatant manner and then smiled knowingly. "Of course, she ditched her humanity after I killed her brother. That's the only way she'd _ever_ choose you."

He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "Is this the best you've got? I have to admit, I'm disappointed. It just doesn't feel like your heart's in it."

She became serious. "Run along and tell Klaus I'll give him the cure if he gives me my freedom. He doesn't need me. He can have Elena."

"Not gonna happen." Elena was his, and Katherine was the means to that end. "Seems he prefers to work with the bitch that skipped out on him for five hundred years."

Quicker than his eye could follow, she eliminated the distance between them and slammed him hard into the wall. Several expensive framed pictures rattled overhead. Her hand clamped around his throat like a vise, and she leaned in so closely their breaths mingled.

"Then I'm going to rip you apart without even breaking a sweat. I'll start with those pretty blue eyes. It'll be such a shame when I pluck them out of your skull." She paused and tilted her head, wavy hair tumbling to the side, a menacing look on her face. "I thought you were smarter than this, harassing me when you know I can kill you instantly. What is it that makes you so foolish?"

He tried to swallow around the death grip she had on his neck. Blood trickled where her nails dug into his pale skin. "Kill me and you'll never know."

"Do you remember how good it felt? You and me?" She smirked cruelly. "So young and eager. You certainly never lacked for enthusiasm."

"How could I forget?"

She leaned into him, lush curvy body conforming to the hard lines of his. She smelled of vanilla and sex.

Normally, he had no problem remembering what she was: heartless, calculating, a sweet façade masking an inner psychopath with the cunning of Satan. Where his Elena was all natural, Katherine was pure artifice. But there were times, like now as she analyzed him as if she couldn't make up her mind whether to murder or fuck him, that he couldn't prevent his body from responding to her.

"I see _someone_ definitely remembers me." That smug smile slowly stretched into a delighted grin. Her lips whispered across his, the barest touch of warm flesh, and a finger leisurely traced the outline of his hard-on.

"I'm game for some hate sex if you are," he murmured.

In a flash, she resumed her stance at the kitchen counter. She smiled slyly down into her steaming coffee mug. "I have to admit, I'm intrigued. Very well then, entertain me. Tell me why you're here. But if I get bored, watch out." She waggled a finger at him. From her tone alone, one might think she was flirting, but Damon knew her words were deadly.

He removed a small cigar box from his jacket pocket and tapped the top with one finger, head still spinning a bit from her quick turnaround.

She turned her head sideways to look at him, and the movement reminded him of a snake slithering through the grass. "Remember what I said earlier about boring me?"

He opened the box and peeked in. It was just a folded up piece of cloth, an old fabric so threadbare its original white color had faded to a dingy yellow. He felt his stomach drop. He really hoped this wasn't some elaborate way for Klaus to get his rocks off by setting him up for failure. The Original had refused to tell him what it was, merely informing him, "Don't you worry, Katerina will know."

He reached in and held it up between thumb and forefinger. The entire thing was about the length of his forearm and a hand span in width. "I take it this means something to you?"

Moving so fast she was a blur, she leapt across the space between them and thrust him to the tiled floor. Looming over him, she hissed lividly, "Give me that." She was right in his face. He could smell the coffee on her breath.

"Ok." He awkwardly held it up for her, and she snatched it away from him. She sat back on her heels, still straddling his waist, staring at it like he imagined a dying man would stare at his only chance for salvation.

Pushing himself gingerly up on his elbows, he inquired, "So that scrap _does_ mean something to you?"

"Where did you get this?" She clutched the length of cloth. Her voice was stricken, a broken mix of shock and sadness.

When he didn't answer, she looked down at him, eyes glittering with unshed tears, and repeated in a new, angrier tone, "I said where did you get this?"

"What is it?"

"It's mine, what's left of a blanket knitted for me by my mother. I used it – " Her voice broke momentarily. "They wrapped my daughter in it, to keep her warm, when they took her away. They wouldn't let me hold her." She abruptly brought it to her face and inhaled as if the sweet scent of an infant might still linger. "Where did you get this? Did Klaus give it to you?"

Her c _hild_? The last thing he could imagine her being was someone's _mother_. It changed nothing though. She was beautiful, just like his Elena, but beyond that he felt nothing. No sympathy, no pity, no love or hatred either. Just…nothing. He would see this through to the end.

She lowered the scrap, but didn't relax her grip on it for an instant. "Damon, I need to know how you got this." Grief was etched into every line of her frame.

Suddenly, they both heard the ping of the elevator door. Katherine turned to look behind her. Who was here?

Oh, well, no time to worry about that, not when he had the perfect opportunity to take her down basically presented to him gift wrapped on a silver platter.

Without hesitation, he plunged his hand into her chest, and his fingers squeezed around her heart, that soulless husk of an organ. Her face contorted in pain, and she was momentarily at his mercy, the agony so overwhelming she couldn't find the strength to fight back.

He immediately felt the magic fill him and flow through his hand into Katherine. The desiccation spell was working.

His hand contracted around her heart just a little harder, wringing a few final gasps of anguish from this bitch who had done nothing but spread suffering wherever she went. He enjoyed her misery and thought it only fitting that she would end up as a human blood-bag for Klaus, the main ingredient for the creation of his hybrid army. Better her than Elena.

But then he noticed Elena scurrying towards Katherine from behind, veins pulsating under her eyes and a stake hoisted in the air.

"Elena, no!" Where the fuck had she come from? How had she escaped Rebekah?

Elena's aim was impeccable: right into Katherine's black heart. Then, the stake pierced him as well, and he watched the wooden point protrude through the back of his hand.

"Ooww, dammit." He jerked his hand out of Katherine's chest cavity.

He tried to grab Katherine, give her some support as she slumped over, even as he couldn't stop staring at the stake jutting out of her heart.

"No," he gasped. "No, no, this is not happening." All his plans for him and Elena: destroyed instantly.

In her dying moment, the defenses she'd constructed so carefully over the centuries fell away. All that was left was a young orphaned girl who'd lost everything far too soon, who'd been forced to do things she'd never wanted to do just to survive. It was a girl Damon had never known.

"Send my love to Stefan," she whispered, and just like that, she died.

No matter how he felt about her now, he had still loved her for a century and a half. As he stared down at her grey, vein-riddled corpse, he felt something click. His humanity was back. All the emotions he'd kept at bay raced back with the violence of a landslide, storming through and overwhelming him.

Hearing a strangled cry, he glanced at Elena. She was looking at him, eyes suffused with glittering tears. He could tell that she had come back online in the same moment that he had. She radiated so powerfully with vulnerability that every inch of him ached in sympathy for her. Avenging her brother must have finally given her emotions the strength they needed to force their way back in. Not to mention, a dead Katherine was eerily what Elena would look like in death. He could only imagine what it must be like to watch yourself die.

"Damon…" she whispered. The pain so evident in her voice almost broke him in half. He reached for her, not knowing why, to somehow offer comfort perhaps, but she recoiled. "I'm sorry. I can't." She wrapped her arms snugly around her middle and stood.

"Elena," he began. She looked down at him. "Will you wait? I have to figure out where she hid the cure."

She turned away. "I need some air."

"Promise me you're not going to take off."

She nodded softly and then walked away.

He gazed down at Katherine again. Fuck, Klaus was going to be pissed.

Ok. Priorities. First things first. He had to get his hands on the cure and return to Elena before she did something stupid.

He picked up Katherine's body in his arms and carried her into the master bedroom. He laid her down on the bed and began to search her corpse. No cure. Of course not, that would be too easy. He sighed. This could take awhile. Especially since he had no idea what the damn thing looked like. Luckily, Klaus's witch had given him a talisman that glowed in the presence of magic.

He ransacked the entire penthouse, but it wasn't until he was completely desperate and reduced to searching through even the potted plants on the window sill of the kitchen that the talisman began to shine with an eerie light. Underneath a slightly wilted fern, completely buried in dirt, he discovered a small, cylindrical red tube about the size of his thumb.

He held it up eye level. "Bingo." All this trouble for something so small.

He returned to Katherine where she lay so still in death.

As he stared at her a final time, he found himself caught up in maudlin reminiscing. It was as if his emotions were on overdrive, trying to make up for their previous absence.

Though they looked identical, loving Katherine and loving Elena were two completely different experiences.

With Katherine, there had been passion – at least on his end – but it hadn't been as chaotic and all-consuming as whatever it was he had with Elena. He had loved Katherine with the strength of first love, just as much in love with the idea of being in love, and she had been so beautiful and he so certain that the person on the interior matched the gorgeous girl on the exterior. There had been such innocence, such naiveté on his part that he often found it difficult to look back on those moments with the advantage of 170 some odd years of hindsight without a little embarrassment.

Loving Katherine had been a gentle summer rain, sweet and comfortable and easy, but loving Elena was the complete opposite. It was like being caught outside in an unexpected monsoon, hot and wet and overwhelming, an elemental force not even a vampire had the strength to withstand.

Of course, none of that mattered now. Not after…everything. Katherine was dead, and no doubt Elena was repulsed by the things they'd done together: the murder, the sex. It would all be too much for her delicate sensibilities, sensibilities already strained to their breaking point by the loss of her brother. In trying to help her cope, he'd only made everything infinitely worse.

Even though he knew time was of the essence, still he found himself hesitating, unable to look away from Katherine. He was sort of half-expecting her eyes to snap open and for her to smirk and reproach him, saying, "What? You didn't think I had a plan B?"

He pulled a sheet over her grey, veiny face. So long, Katherine Pierce, rest in hell.

He walked away without looking back. He needed to find Elena before a pair of vindictive Originals found her first.

* * *

He stood before Elena's bedroom door, cure in hand. He should just open the door and go in. But he didn't.

Truth be told, he was dreading this moment. They hadn't spoken a single word on the drive home. Seven hours of horrible, impenetrable silence. Elena just sat next to him, wooden, mute. He'd feared she might be catatonic. He tried to say something, but every time the words lodged in his throat and refused to move past his teeth. He didn't know what to say, so he ended up saying nothing.

Stefan would have known how to comfort her. He always knew the right thing to say, damn his miserable hide.

He could hear Stefan's and Elena's voices as they conversed.

As if he were there, he could perfectly envision the scene though a heavy wooden door lay between them. Elena would be sitting on the edge of her bed, spilling her guilty guts to Stefan who would be reassuringly close to her. He'd have one of those brooding, soulful, You-Can-Tell-Me-Anything-And-I'll-Understand-Because-I'm-So-Deep looks on his face that no girl could resist. He might even be holding her hand.

Damon swallowed roughly. He didn't begrudge his brother the urge to touch Elena – he knew it well. It just blew that he couldn't do the same.

Stefan's calm, mellow voice disrupted his dark thoughts. "You have the chance to be human now," he told Elena

"I can't take the cure," she responded.

"Why not? You deserve to be happy."

"If I take the cure, then what? Wait until Klaus kidnaps me and makes me his personal blood bag? It wouldn't be right. We should put it to a better use."

There was a long silence. Then: "What are you going to tell Damon?" Stefan asked.

"I don't know. I don't want to hurt him."

Lips thinning, his grip on the cure tightened. He couldn't do this again.

He already knew how the conversation between him and Elena would go, each word a stake through his heart. There'd be tears and recriminations, and he'd have to see the look on her face that let him know he'd screwed up beyond repair. Yes, surely even Elena had a limit to the number of times she'd forgive him.

And then, just to drive the metaphorical stake home, she'd conclude with some bullshit platitude about how she hoped they could still be friends.

 _Friends_. Like he could ever just be Elena Gilbert's friend.

Spinning around, he zapped away. He was going to go ahead and jump aboard the Nope train to Fuck-that-ville. He didn't need to physically hear what he already knew. No chance with Elena. There'd never been one. It would always be fucking Stefan.

You know what, fine, he wasn't even angry that she preferred Stefan. He couldn't really blame her. His brother was safer. Better. Ultimately good for her.

Unlike him. Good was not a word people applied to him. Good at getting under people's skins, good at being wildly inappropriate, good at crazy, mind-blowing sex…naturally. But just plain good? No, not Damon Salvatore.

Well, he'd just save those two love birds the trouble of telling him to get lost. He would get out of their hair and let them be happy – while he figured out how to move on with a heart that Elena Gilbert had doused in gasoline and burned to ashes. This wouldn't be the first time he'd left Mystic Falls because he was unwanted, and seeing as he was immortal, he highly doubted it would be his last.

Once he made it to his room, he hesitated, looking around. His eyes fell on the bed, and he remembered how incredible it had been to wake up with Elena there, to pretend like she was actually his for one night. It had felt so right.

He gritted his teeth. He didn't have time for pointless reminiscing. He needed to let go of what was and move on. He would survive this; it was just going to suck major balls.

He pulled a travel bag out of his closet and set it on the bed.

While he was going through his dresser, Caroline appeared in the doorway. "And there goes Damon, running away from his problems. Shocker."

"I apologize if I gave you the impression this was any of your fucking business," he snapped with a rude flick of his hand. He was not in the mood for the nosey vampire.

She leaned against the doorframe and gave him one of those Caroline Forbes patented frowns of disapproval, complete with wrinkled forehead and crossed arms. "So you're just what? Sneaking out like a coward in the middle of the night?"

"Well, technically, I'm sneaking out like a coward in the middle of the afternoon." He shoved a handful of shirts into his bag.

"I think that's a really bad idea."

Halfway to the bathroom to grab his toothbrush and razor, he retorted, "It's gonna be a cold day in hell before I actually believe that _you_ think it's better if I stick around."

" _I'm_ not the one you need to work stuff out with, because you went off on some crazy blood-binging murder spree!"

"Exactly. She's better off without me."

"Ugh, seriously, Damon? You're so stupid if you really believe that! Elena will not be better off if you just vanish from her life, especially without making things right first! She's lost her brother and now you're going to make her suffer through your loss, too?"

He stopped on the way to his closet and faced her squarely. "And how exactly should I go about making things right? Do you think they make a card for this sort of thing? 'Sorry I used my sire bond to turn you into a murderous vampire with no conscience'. Or maybe I could send her a bouquet. Nothing says forgive me for leaving you at the mercy of a torture-happy Original like roses." He didn't mean to reveal so much to Caroline, but anger, mostly at himself, caused the words to shoot readily from his lips. "Ooo, I know. I'll set up a fireworks display and when it explodes, the sky will read, 'Oops, hope you can look past the fact I planned to kidnap you and keep you evil forever'."

"Okay, I never said it was going to be easy-"

"Drop it, Caroline. There's no coming back from this. Believe me, I wish to hell there was. The least I can do is spare her the burden of having to tell me to my face what a fuckup I am." He tossed his cell phone on the bed. He'd get a new one later. It equaled too much temptation. It'd be too easy to reach out for Elena.

"Leaving isn't going to solve anything," she said, clearly not going to listen to him and drop it. "There's no way you could have known that Klaus would do something insane like force you to shut off your humanity. As much as you'd love to wallow in self-loathing, and as much as I'd love to let you, what Klaus did was _not_ your fault. I know in your own twisted way you were just trying to help Elena." Caroline flapped her arms. "I can't believe you're making _me_ defend _you._ "

He appeared next to her in the doorway, packed bag in hand. He said softly, "She has you and Stefan. She'll be fine."

Damon made it all the way to the base of the staircase before he heard the sound of Elena's bare feet padding down the stairs after him. _Damn you, Caroline,_ he grumbled mentally.

He risked a glance back and felt his heart constrict. Her eyes were red from crying, but she was still so impossibly beautiful. She smiled gently, a hand trailing down the dark wooden banister. "Stefan offered me a room here since I'm homeless now. Whoops. Hope you don't mind."

"Help yourself." Resolved to leave her with Stefan, he resumed his trek to the door.

"Are you coming back?"

He didn't turn to look at her again. He couldn't. "That's probably not a good idea."

"So you're just going to leave? What about Klaus? I'm not taking the cure and he's still going to want it."

"I'm taking the cure with me. That'll draw him away. He'll come after me, not you."

She laughed briefly, incredulously. "Right, cause Klaus is known for being reasonable like that. He's got to be furious. I'm going to need your help to deal with him. Damon, I…I need you. Please stay."

No, _no_ , he wasn't going to turn and look into those fucking Gilbert eyes, those soul-sucking orbs that were capable of draining every ounce of his will, capable of making him crawl on his belly over broken glass if that's what it took to make her happy.

"Surely Stefan can be your white knight. We both know that's more his shtick than mine."

"You're not even going to say good-bye?"

Every sinew, every impulse demanded that he turn and go to her. He steeled himself. No, for once in his miserable life, he was going to do the right thing.

"Good-bye, Elena." He walked out the door without looking back.


	4. Chapter 4

Doing the right thing sucked. Two weeks, give or take a few days, and he was miserable. He'd just have to console himself with all the money he won off these poor idiots.

He currently sat at a table playing poker in a mega-casino/hotel in Las Vegas. Flashy, loud, plenty of booze, cigar smoke everywhere, and lots of half-naked ladies strutting about the place. Perfect for distraction.

The best part was it kept him from dwelling on Elena.

Well, most of the time.

Some of the time.

Ok, fine, he couldn't prevent himself from thinking about her constantly, but this was better than locking himself in a dark room, blasting Alice in Chains, and weeping into his bourbon.

"Drink," he called for. The girl sitting on his lap handed over his glass of bourbon, and he winked at her and traded his cigar for the liquor.

As he took a sip, a hand clapped him on the shoulder. "Really? Poker in Las Vegas? Could you be any more predictable?"

Of course, it was Stefan.

Damon's jaw flexed. "I am getting really sick of people telling me that." Setting his cards down, he said irritably, "Excuse me, gentlemen, I'll be right back." He quickly compelled his four partners to wait passively for his return.

He stood and walked with his brother over to a bar. "What are you doing here, Stefan?"

"Looking for you, brother."

He studied his brother intently, but Stefan's energy read as earnest and sincere. "Does it seem like I'm lost?"

Stefan gestured around him. "This is what you've been doing with your time: hanging out with lowlifes, getting drunk, gambling, and fraternizing with hookers?"

"You say that like it's a bad thing." He grinned and watched his brother's face settle into familiar lines of disapproval. Of course he wasn't sleeping with hookers; they were just a fun, convenient source of blood – the other charges leveled against him were true enough though – but he didn't bother trying to correct his brother. Stefan was just going to believe the worst no matter what – no point in trying to avoid the inevitable.

His younger brother looked down at his feet and sighed. "Elena's in trouble."

"Of course she is. Isn't it Tuesday?" he asked flippantly.

"Real trouble, Damon."

"How? Klaus can't kill her or he'll never have any more hybrids. If he wants the cure, he can come ask me real nicely for it."

"There might be a way to rid ourselves of Klaus for good."

"Then why are you wasting your time here?"

"We need your help."

"No can do, brother. I have a poker game to win." He gave his brother a snarky smile and returned to the table, resuming his seat. "Sorry, boys, where were we?"

His sensitive ears registered the sound of chair legs scraping across the ground. He looked over his shoulder and saw Stefan pulling up a chair. His brother settled in it backwards, resting his arms on the backrest. "Room for one more?" Stefan inquired.

"No, we're in the middle of a game."

"Ok, I'll wait."

Of course he would. Stefan never could leave well-enough alone. Damon decided to interpret his brother's insistence on sticking around as a challenge.

"I tell you what, Stef, you stay here and have one night of actual fun with me, and I'll consider going home with you in the morning." He saw the indecision on his brother's face and pressed, "What's the matter? Afraid you can't hang?"

Stefan shook his head. "Oh, I can hang. You've never seen me at a Bon Jovi concert."

"Thank god."

Neither one of them brought up Elena the entire night. He personally didn't want to know what was going on between her and his brother. There was nothing he desired more than for Elena to be happy, and if being with Stefan made her happy, then fine. But that didn't mean he wanted to torture himself by hearing about it.

He'd never admit it out loud, but it was good to see Stefan's face. To know that he'd come after him. Even if it would be a cold day in hell before he actually returned to Mystic Falls with him.

As it turned out, Stefan wasn't the worst poker player in the world. He actually gave Damon a run for his money. Damon still won, obviously, but it was an intense game.

Half way through their second bottle of liquor, Stefan threw his cards down on the green felt table at the end of the game and gave his brother a defiant look. "What's next, Oh Fun One?"

Damon leaned over and put his arm around the guy sitting next to him, a weasely looking character decked out in an Italian wool suit and a fancy watch. "My buddy Dan here happens to be a very avid, very wealthy collector of cars, aren't you, Dan?"

The aforementioned Dan smiled nervously.

They spent the next few hours racing expensive, mind-boggling fast cars through the strip. Damon drove a bright fire engine red Ferrari F430 Spider, and Stefan couldn't get anywhere near him in his black Bentley Continental GT convertible. They compelled their way out of several tickets, and he even caught Stefan laughing.

Come on, who wouldn't enjoy the opportunity to burn rubber in these cars. He was sorely tempted to compel Dan to give them the cars for keeps, but he knew he'd never drive the Ferrari again. He had all the car he needed in his Camaro.

By the end of the night, they were back in Damon's hotel room.

Damon gave his brother an arrogant smirk and gestured towards the forest of liquor bottles crowding the top of a mini-fridge. "You know what I love about this town? It's so easy to get good bourbon."

Stefan grabbed a bottle and opened the top. "We're just gonna sit in here getting drunk?"

Before he finished speaking, there came a knock on the door. Stefan gave his brother a questioning look to which Damon just smiled insolently. When the dark haired Salvatore opened the door, three scantily-clad, beautiful women filed in. They immediately began fawning over Damon, clearly having met him before.

"Stefan, let me introduce you to my friends." He gestured to the red-headed one. "Candy." He motioned toward the blonde one. "Mercedes." Finally, he put his arm around the last, a brunette with dark eyes. "And my personal favorite, Chastity." He sank his teeth into her neck, and she sighed and ran her palm across his cheek.

Stefan commented dryly, "Ah, I should have guessed: more hookers."

"Don't be rude, brother," Damon admonished, lifting his eyebrows in a teasing manner. "They prefer the term _escort_."

The one named Candy wandered over to Stefan and proceeded to sit on his lap, smiling up at him playfully.

"Um, no thank you," he was quick to tell her.

"You don't want to play?" she asked.

Damon leaned over. "Don't take it personally," he consoled the girl, jerked a thumb in Stefan's direction. "Eunuch."

"Thank you for that," Stefan replied sarcastically.

By morning, the ladies were gone, and Damon sat numbly on the floor of his suite, early morning sunlight streaming through the window of the balcony. An empty bottle of bourbon lay between his legs, and he gazed at it despondently. Why did it have to be empty?

He heard Stefan come up behind him. "Alright, brother, I upheld my end of the bargain. Your turn."

He refused to turn and look at him. "I don't want to see her."

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen."

He slanted a disgruntled look at him.

"You know I can't make a promise like that. Bonnie and Caroline had to practically sit on top of her in order to prevent her from coming with me."

Damon sighed and looked down at the ground.

Stefan proffered his hand. "Come on. Elena needs you."

He stared at Stefan's hand with its familiar lapis lazuli ring bearing the Salvatore crest, then rolled his eyes. Oh, who was he kidding? He grabbed Stefan's hand and stood.

* * *

He was about to open his door and go into his room, but he hesitated and glanced across the hallway at the room Elena had claimed as her own. The door was closed. He assumed she was probably sleeping.

He flashed back to the group meeting they'd held this afternoon.

Stefan had filled him in on the drive back. When they walked through the door, the whole Mystic Falls gang was there to greet them: Elena, Matt, Caroline, and Bonnie.

Sigh. So much for avoiding Elena. "Well isn't this quite the home coming. Even the witch showed up to welcome me back."

Bonnie got a smart-ass look on her face. "We're here to help Elena."

Damon looked askance at his brother who just shrugged and said, "I told you it was urgent."

They spent the next few hours constructing a plan that they thought had the most reasonable chance of succeeding. If all went accordingly, after tomorrow, Klaus would never be a threat to Elena again. Or anyone, for that matter.

Predictably, Elena had been against the whole thing from the get-go. She said it was too dangerous, and she didn't want anyone risking their lives for her.

Caroline kept demanding that no one hurt Klaus, occasionally impaling Damon with her narrow blue eyed gaze as if he was the only person in the room with an axe to grind against the hybrid.

For the most part, Damon's attention was focused on Stefan and Elena, trying to figure out what was going on between them, like someone who just can't resist sticking their tongue into a painful abscessed tooth. Stefan paced incessantly before the fireplace, brow furrowed, reassuring Caroline and Elena that his idea was a good one. Elena sat on a couch between Caroline and Bonnie, and when she wasn't vehemently protesting Stefan's ideas, she sent Damon looks he couldn't decipher.

At one point, Stefan stopped and looked straight at him. "I haven't heard anything out of you lately, brother. What do you think?"

Damon set his glass down on the antique wooden table and spun it around, fingers on the rim. "What I think is that I deserve one day where I don't have to think about Klaus or hear his name."

Anyone else would have stormed out, but he just picked up his glass again and sauntered out of the parlor. He went into the kitchen.  
Stefan followed him. "I take it that dramatic exit means you don't like my plan?"

"No, Stefan, I don't like your plan. I don't like this cure business in general. I don't like Original vampires. And I don't like being home."

"But you will help?"

He took a bitter swallow of liquor. "I'll do whatever Elena needs me to do. You know that."

Stefan just clapped him on the shoulder with one hand and returned to Elena and her friends.

He heard when the brain-storming session broke up. Matt drove Caroline and Bonnie home and Stefan retreated upstairs. Elena saw her friends off and came back to the main sitting room but as soon as he realized that she had every intention of confronting him, he'd absconded out back with his favorite bottle of bourbon.

Nope. No way was he ready to face her. He had no interest in hearing how even though she was with Stefan, she still wanted to be _friends_ , and then he'd have to stand there like an idiot and nod, acting like his insides weren't slowly being sucked into the black hole where his heart used to be.

But he hadn't witnessed any interactions between her and Stefan that led him to suspect they were romantically involved again, so maybe…

He forced himself to squash the tiny bubble of hope rising in his chest. Too fucking painful. He'd been false hope's bitch for too long. Knowing Elena, she was just being respectful and didn't want to flaunt it in his face.

So, their plan was all decided and tomorrow it was on, but now here he was, a bottle of bourbon later and so close to her. She was just across the hall.

He had only the long, lonely hours of the night stretched out in front of him and he was so weak. He just needed to see her…fuck that, he needed to kiss her, touch her. If this was going to possibly be his last night on earth, there was nowhere he'd rather be than with her.

He found himself in front of her door though he couldn't remember moving his feet. He listened for a moment, detecting the soft beat of her heart and the occasional swish of paper. She was reading.

She wasn't asleep. And she was alone.

He knocked. Almost immediately he regretted it. What the hell was he doing?

The door opened and he saw an angel. A sleepy angel wearing… _his clothes_? Elena had on one of his black cotton T's which clung in all the right places and a pair of his silk black boxers. His brain, which was already struggling to function on all cylinders, stuttered to an abrupt halt as all the blood rushed somewhere lower. Jesus Christ, this girl undid him and made him _want_.

"Hey," she smiled shyly at him. "I was hoping it was you."

God, he longed to take her in his arms, hold her, beg her to forgive his worthless ass. Instead, he asked stupidly, "Yeah?" because it was the only thing he could think of to say, and smiled crookedly.

"Yeah." She tilted her head and regarded him for a moment, dark hair hanging long down her back. "I'm glad you're not avoiding me anymore."

"I'm not avoiding you," he denied much too quickly. _Bullshit._

Apparently, she detected it, too. "Riiiight," she murmured, pressing her lips into a thin line. He watched as her gaze dipped down to his mouth and then back up to his eyes. "Anyway, I'm glad you're here now." Her face brightened. "I wanted to tell you-"

He took a single step forward with a hesitant look on his face, cutting her off. "Can we just skip the whole talking thing?"

She gave him a funny look and opened her mouth to say something, but he interrupted her again. "I know we need to," he cleared his throat, "talk and stuff, clear the air if you will, but it's late, and tomorrow we might die, and I'm kinda drunk, and I just…all I can think about is kissing you."

She laughed softly. "I like how you said all that as if I'd say no to kissing you."

He gazed at her with equal parts desperation and hope and disbelief before surging forward, seizing and pulling her into him, lips and teeth crashing together.

Her taste blasted through his foggy bourbon haze, and her subtle, lavender scent soothed him. She was real. This was really happening, and she was in his arms.

He groaned, deepening the kiss, tongues tangling as his hands swept down her back and cupped the pleasing curvature of her ass.

Mouth roaming across the soft line of her jaw and then lower down her neck, he reveled in the taste of her skin. One fang scraped lightly along her collarbone, and he quickly flicked his tongue out to swallow the drops of blood that beaded like red jewels before the wound he'd inflicted healed almost instantly. Nothing compared to the taste of Elena Gilbert. Nothing.

With sure hands, Elena yanked his fly open so hard the button popped and went soaring, and then she was holding him hot and heavy in her palm. She began to stroke, finding a rhythm that was slow and devastating.

When she gripped him with both hands, he doubted he'd last much longer.

With a saucy smile, she eased to the floor to kneel before him. She captured him in an unflinching stare, and he watched amazed as his world was reduced to nothing more than heat and wetness.

It felt so good, her tongue sweeping along his length. His hips bucked in time to that hot little mouth, and he had to grit his teeth so he wouldn't grab the back of her head and rush her.

Instead, he cupped her face with shaking hands, smoothing his thumbs across her cheek bones, in awe of this beautiful creature who apparently didn't hate him after all.

Suddenly, it felt too fucking good, and he jerked away, almost stumbling on unsteady legs. He wasn't ready for this to be over so quickly.

He needed to bury himself in her, be with her at least one more time.

She rose, moving with him, and shoved him backwards, violently disrobing him. He returned the favor, shredding his clothes she was wearing as her pajamas.

By the time they collapsed on top of the mattress, they didn't have a stitch on, her long legs wrapped around him as he loomed over her.

Only with an unusual display of restraint – which even on his best day was a limited resource – was he able to break away from kissing her and raise his head. He didn't want to stop, but he also didn't want to push her or make her uncomfortable. True, she'd just finished going down on him, but technically, she'd only agreed to kissing. It might possibly kill him if she told him to get out, but he had to make sure.

Resting his forehead on hers, he violated his own request to not talk, asking roughly, "Elena, is this - do you - ?"

She pulled back so she could look him in the eye and wrinkled her nose at him, lips deliciously wet from their kisses. "Are you seriously asking if I want to sleep with you when we're already naked in bed?"

He shifted to the right and pretended to glance under his arm at their intertwined bodies, though he merely used it as an opportunity to admire her perfect breasts. "Huh, I hadn't even noticed."

Smiling, she lightly smacked his shoulder. "Yes." Her arms snaked around his neck. She grabbed the back of his head, tugging him close again, fingers weaving through his dark hair. "Yes," she breathed into his mouth.


	5. Chapter 5

The air was crisp and the leaves crunched underfoot as they tromped through the woods behind the Salvatore mansion. Stefan's favorite hunting ground, Damon thought snidely, which explained why so few squirrels were jumping about overhead.

Twenty feet in front of him, Stefan spoke quietly with Bonnie and Caroline. Matt walked near them in a bright red jacket, but he didn't seem to be participating in their conversation.

Engrossed in his own thoughts, Damon tuned them out, and also because he was paying more attention to the sound of Elena's footsteps. She trailed him by a short distance, but was rapidly gaining ground.

Unbidden, he conjured up memories of this morning: how amazing it had felt to wake up next to Elena, her hair under his shoulder, his arm snug around her middle. He'd tightened his hold and pulled her into him, her ass fitting cozily against his thighs. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in her sweet, clean scent. HehHgdf He was already hard, and he slipped inside of her easily, waking her with lazy morning love-making.

Afterwards, he'd hoped to depart unremarked, but she rolled over to face him, cheek resting on her hand, while he sat on the edge of the bed staring at the remains of his clothes, ruined from when she ripped them off him last night. He was contemplating his odds of walking across the hallway butt-naked unnoticed. Probably pretty good.

"Will you stay?" she asked him. "After? If we somehow succeed against Klaus?" Her eyes were hopeful.

He looked away. "I can't stay, Elena."

He'd left her still warm and sleepy in that bed which smelled of their sex and vowed to himself that he'd find the strength to do right by her. Even if, by some miracle, she was capable of forgiving him, nothing had changed. It wasn't as if magically over night he'd became a good choice for her. The fact remained that she was better off without him. He had nothing to offer her but pain and darkness. And really, _really_ great sex. But that wasn't enough, unfortunately.

He came back to reality as Elena drew even with him, too busy woolgathering like a fool to keep ahead of her.

"Damon," she entreated, trying to get him to look at her.

"Elena," he retorted more harshly than he'd intended. He shouldn't have let her catch up to him. He needed to stay away from her, but he still stupidly craved any last chance to be near her. The slightest expenditure of effort on his part would have prevented her from overtaking him, but he didn't put in any effort at all and now here she was making everything more difficult.

He glanced at her from the periphery of his vision. She looked incredible in a hunter green sweater that did wonderful things for her already wonderful figure. Her jeans were tight enough to double as a second skin. Again, really not helping.

She attempted to put her hand in his. He assiduously ensured she failed.

Undeterred by his literal and metaphorical distance, she said, "Damon, promise you won't just take off without talking to me first."

He shook his head. "I'm not promising something I won't keep."

"Please, you owe me that much."

He rounded on her, blue eyes blazing with heat, and struggled to keep his voice down so maybe there was a chance the others wouldn't overhear. "I don't owe you anything. This whole conversation is stupid because we're probably not even going to survive, so it's a moot point. You know how often our plans go according to…well, plan. So, no, I'm not going to make you any promises."

"Last night? And this morning? What was that, then?"

"I told you. I was drunk." A muscle under his eye twitched. "And weak."

Hurt flashed across her face as she nodded twice and looked down, strands of dark brown hair falling over one ear. He silently cursed himself for being a jackass. He was filled with a bitter rage, most of which was directed inward at himself, but he didn't mean to project it onto her.

"Come on," he snarled and snagged her hand, pulling her along beside him as he resumed walking. Her fingers curled around his, and he exhaled defeatedly as the sensation of her touch flared with a vengeance through every nerve in his body.

If only this, the constant lightening build-up of tension followed by dizzying, intoxicating release, could be enough. If only he could just give in and be selfish with her. He'd throw her down on the forest floor, hair fanning out amidst the leaves, warm, brown eyes black with desire, and kiss her and love her until everything made sense again.

Sigh. He had no clue how he was going to get her out of his system, not when merely being next to her was this pleasurably maddening. If history was any sort of guide, it would take a few centuries, at least. He grimaced, figuring himself to be so fucked. His track record of moving on from gorgeous, doe-eyed girls with full bottom lips and long, brown hair was pretty abysmal, he freely admitted.

Another five minutes of hiking and they reached a clearing, neutral ground, where they'd arranged to meet Klaus. Circular in shape, the open space in the middle of the woods had a diameter of approximately eighty feet or so. A dozen massive oaks ringed the clearing. They were the sort of trees that had been growing unmolested for hundreds of years, skeletal arms spider-webbing overhead in strange and twisted designs.

Stefan gestured to Damon and Elena to hurry up and join the rest of the group. Damon half-heartedly tried to disengage his hand from hers, but she clung to him tenaciously so he gave up.

Sweeping his free arm out to indicate the open clearing, Damon declared sardonically, "It's a big circle of trees. I can't wait to tell my friends. They don't have a circle of trees this big."

Bonnie gazed at him disdainfully. "You don't have any friends." She rested a hand on the rough bark of one of the colossal oaks. "This is a place of power. Very old. Good for communing with nature."

Stefan chimed in. "Perfect for our purposes. Everyone, remember that our only advantage over Klaus is that he doesn't know what the cure looks like. We have to make him believe us." One by one, Stefan turned to each member of the group and emphasized the importance of their roles. He came to Damon last. "You know what to do. Just try not to antagonize him too much. Do you think that's possible?"

"Sorry, apparently making promises isn't in my wheel house today," he said dryly, and Elena gave him a look. He smirked insolently at her.

Once everyone was reminded of their part, they began to wait.

"He's late!" Caroline exclaimed twenty minutes later. She sounded as if she were offended by the very concept of lateness. Since it was Caroline, she probably was.

Stefan pulled his phone out of a back pocket. "I'll give him a call."

"No need for that, old friend."

Stefan froze with his phone half-way to his ear. As one, they all whirled to find the Original smiling pleasantly behind them as though it were merely a brilliant stroke of luck that they'd chanced upon one another in the middle of the forest. A brief wind kicked up a swirl of leaves, scattering gold and brown streaks through the air.

"It's about time you showed up," Caroline snapped.

"Sorry, love, I had to make sure this wasn't a trap."

Stepping forward, Stefan asked, "Well, are you convinced?"

"Not at all, but I don't fear you. If I even so much as suspect treachery, I'll kill all of you without hesitation." That pleasant smile never wavered. "Except you, Elena. I have big plans for you. Let's get this over with, shall we?"

"The deal," Stefan said loudly, "is that Elena will take the cure and willingly donate to you any blood you need, but she's not your prisoner."

"So, you expect me to leave my only means of creating more hybrids in your care? No offense, mate, but you haven't been doing the best job lately."

"That's the deal. Take it or leave it."

The corners of Klaus's lips turned down slightly as if in thought. "I'm rather curious how you're going to prevent me from doing exactly as I please. Truthfully, I don't even know why you care anymore, given that Elena's wasting her time on your brother. Your love may be the kind that never dies, but it sure likes to go slumming, doesn't it?"

Damon avoided looking at Stefan. He had no desire to see the stoic mask on his brother's face that covered pain he knew was there. That's why he had to leave. It was best for everyone.

Elena finally let go of Damon's hand and moved up next to Stefan. "Don't, Klaus. I'll agree to go with you, but you have to promise not to hurt anyone else."

Klaus's eyes raked over her. "Ah, my sole surviving doppelganger. I see we're back to our tiresome, self-righteous old selves. Katarina would have been so much more fun."

His gaze shifted to Damon. "I'm surprised you'd show your face after you reneged on our arrangement. All of this could have been avoided if you'd just stuck to your end of the bargain. I really thought that with Elena as the prize, you'd go through with it. I must confess to some disappointment. "

"You and me both, honey," Damon said mildly. "I thought I was done listening to the words that come out of your face hole, yet here we are."

"I might be insulted if I didn't know that your propensity for banter is just a cover for that nagging little insecurity that you'll never be good enough for Elena."

"Wait, are you implying that _I_ talk a lot?"

Klaus clasped his hands behind his back and grinned. "But it appears as though you have nothing to worry about. Tsk, planning to sully this little dove's snow white feathers with your filth for as long as you could get away with it, and she still hasn't done the right thing and repudiated you. Unless of course you neglected to tell her that little detail."

Damon almost laughed out loud. He'd revealed that tidbit to Caroline, so there was no way Elena hadn't already heard all about it, but he certainly didn't appreciate the reminder.

"Stop it, Klaus," Caroline said.

Damon narrowed his eyes. He did not need Blondie to fight his battles for him.

She strode right up to Klaus and rested a hand on his bristly cheek. The Original seemed surprised by her touch. "You don't have to do this," she told him, speaking intimately as if they were alone. "I know you think some creepy hybrid cult is the only way to create the family, the happiness you crave, but you already have people that love you. Rebekah. Elijah."

"And you, Caroline Forbes?" he asked in his elegant accent. "Could you ever bring yourself to love someone like me?"

Damon's eyes almost rolled out of his head. Were they seriously doing this right here in front of everyone?

Caroline tilted her head, searching Klaus's handsome face. "It would be a lot easier if you gave up this insane plan and just let Elena live her life. She's my best friend."

Klaus's demeanor grew hard. "Is this your trick? You think to lull me into decency by making mefeel mercy? You'll have to try harder than that." He jerked away and brushed past Caroline with enough force to off-balance her. "Come, Elena, it's time to go. There's much work to be done."

The sight of Klaus barreling towards Elena roused every protective instinct Damon possessed. Over his dead body was this bastard getting his hands on Elena. Without thinking twice, he moved in front of her. He was gratified when Stefan joined him almost instantly, so that they stood shoulder to shoulder. His brother would never allow anything to happen to her, either.

Klaus laughed delightedly, as if the idea that they thought to stand against him was hilarious. "I suggest you put a shorter leash on your mongrels, Elena, or I'll be forced to put them down myself."

Elena tried to slip between the Salvatores, but Damon put his arm out, blocking her forward progress. "There's no way in hell you're going anywhere with him."

She managed to duck under his arm. Damn slippery girl. "I'll be fine. Klaus isn't going to hurt me, right, Klaus?"

"It wasn't on my to-do list, but if you don't hurry up, I'm quite capable of changing my mind."

She smiled up at Damon first and then Stefan before turning and joining Klaus. The ancient vampire yanked her against his side and locked her in a grip of steel, his hand cutting cruelly into her upper arm.

"Excellent," he growled. "I've got my doppelganger. Now, how about that cure and I'll be on my way."

No one moved or said anything.

"Come on, who has it? Speak up now or I'll be forced to search for it, and I assure you it won't be pleasant." He twisted Elena's arm for emphasis, making her cry out in pain.

"Is this what you're looking for?" Damon held up a tear-dropped shape glass vial filled with clear liquid. It was nothing more than water, but Klaus didn't know that.

Klaus extended his free hand, the other still clenched around Elena. "Hand it over."

"Or," Damon smiled darkly, "why don't you be a good hybrid-freak and go fetch?" He tossed the vial over his shoulder directly into the center of the clearing.

Elena picked that exact moment to resist against Klaus with all of her fledgling vampire strength, and he shoved her to the ground hard enough to send her sprawling. Damon was instantly by her side, helping her up and brushing leaves from her clothes and hair.

With murder in his eyes, Klaus darted after the hurled vial. He succeeded in catching it before it could hit the earth and shatter. He turned and began a furious march back towards the group waiting around the fringe of the clearing.

Klaus's momentum carried him directly into an invisible magical barrier with the force of a Mack truck. He slammed his fists against air that had turned solid as any wall, effectively trapping him inside the clearing. "What have you done?" he bellowed.

Bonnie smiled thinly while holding her palms up as she finished chanting the words to a spell. "Surely you remember one of my new favorite spells? I just couldn't wait for a chance to try it out again."

"Certainly," he sneered. "I also remember that this barrier spell won't last forever, and the instant I'm free, there will be no more second chances, no more deals, no more friendly negotiations. I will make sure all of you suffer horribly before I end you."

"No, Klaus, I'm not going to let you hurt anyone else." Elena walked up to the edge of the clearing holding up another vial of clear liquid. "This is the real cure, and I'm going to make sure that someone who deserves it gets to use it. You'll have no choice but to give up your psychotic plans."

Unexpectedly, Klaus slammed himself against the mystical barrier with a roar, spittle flying, face twisted in a livid red rictus of rage with veins pulsating wildly around his yellow eyes. Werewolf venom dripped down his elongated canines.

No one did rage like Klaus Mikaelson.

Elena couldn't suppress her fear. She flinched, losing her hold on the vial. It fell towards the earth, and before it could hit, Damon immediately grabbed her and whisked her out of Klaus's reach.

Matt, though, simple, stupid Matt who was just hanging around waiting to do his part to help Elena, made a dive for the glass vial as it rolled along the leaf-littered ground. Faster than anyone could follow, Klaus snapped a thick tree branch off one of the oaks and speared Matt through the side, dragging him inside the spell's boundary and within his grasp. In the Original's grip, Matt began to turn purple.

"Are you watching, Elena?" Klaus raged.

She twisted in Damon's arms, trying to go to Matt's aid. "Let me go!"

He didn't even consider listening to her.

Klaus went on, "I am going to kill him right in front of you, and when I get free, I'll compel your beloved Salvatores to kill your witch friend while you watch. As a final treat, I'll make them fight each other to the death, and after I lay their desiccated hearts at your feet, you'll still do exactly what I want you to do."

He grabbed Matt by his blonde hair and yanked the boy's head to the side, exposing the soft white skin of his neck. Fangs gliding through skin and muscle, Klaus pierced straight to the vein.

"Matt, no," Elena screamed, redoubling her efforts to escape Damon, thrashing and sobbing in a frenzy.

Her struggles ceased abruptly when Klaus tossed Matt's drained corpse to the ground. Her body became dead weight in Damon's arms.

"There, one down. I suggest you start running before I – " All of a sudden, Klaus doubled over as paroxysms of pain racked him. "What witchcraft is this?" he gasped. He grabbed his stomach and stumbled over to one of the oaks, desperately using it to hold himself up.

It didn't work. He roared again and collapsed to his knees. They could see his skin roiling and his eyes darting around madly as he sought the source of his pain.

Damon looked to Bonnie.

"I dropped the spell," she told him, referring to the magical barrier restraining the Original.

He released Elena who was still frozen in place and went to Klaus, now completely horizontal and writhing in agony.

Never one to miss a good opportunity to taunt his enemies, Damon squatted and smirked. "You wanted to know who had the cure? Our very own golden quarterback drank it right down this morning with his breakfast tea." He reached down and patted Klaus's cheek. "Guess you shouldn't be so predictable."

Caroline appeared and in a bitchy voice snapped, "Get away from him." She cradled Klaus's head in her lap. His pain already seemed to be receding.

Damon stood and left the now mortal Klaus in Caroline's care.

He was seriously considering trying to sneak off when Stefan called to him. "Damon, over here."

He sauntered over to his brother. "Excellent work, Stef. Plan worked like a charm."

"Did you doubt it would?"

"Yes."

Stefan jerked his chin toward Matt. "Can you take him back to the house and see that he's comfortable until he wakes up? The Gilbert ring doesn't always resurrect the wearer on a predictable schedule."

"Sure." Damon glanced around nonchalantly.

"I sent Elena back with Bonnie. Bonnie seemed a little woozy after casting that spell."

God, was he that obvious? Pathetic. "And you?"

"I'll stay with Caroline. I don't think Klaus is going to give us any more trouble, but it's better safe than sorry."

"A human Klaus. I can't even imagine it," Damon mused.

"I don't think any of us can."

Damon turned to go collect Matt, but Stefan gripped the collar of his leather jacket and yanked him around so they were nose to nose, saying, "Hey, do everyone a favor and just go talk to her. You're being childish. And a coward."

Glaring down where Stefan's hand touched him, he said with a curl of his lip, "Noted." He jerked away and gave his brother an acerbic look while readjusting his jacket.

He walked over to Matt. "Come on, quarterback, let's get you inside." He lifted the poor boy's prostrate form and began picking his way through the trees with leaden feet.

* * *

Damon found Elena in the kitchen measuring ground coffee into the open lid of the coffee maker. The sight of her sent heat coursing through his veins.

"Klaus is with Caroline," he informed her, "in case you were wondering. She volunteered to look after him until Rebekah can get here."

"Matt?"

"Bonnie and Stefan are waiting with him until he wakes up. Should be any minute now." He thrummed his fingers on the counter top, brimming with nervous energy.

Elena pushed the little red button on the side of the coffee pot, and it began to emit gurgling noises as the smell of brewing coffee filled the air. She turned to regard him silently, one hand on the counter, the other dangling loosely by her side. He hated that he couldn't read that inscrutable look on her face.

He sighed and rested his palms on the counter, face turned up to the ceiling. "This is the part where we have to talk, isn't it?"

"I think we should," she established demurely.

He tilted his head just enough to see her face. "Cause if you'd rather, we could just go upstairs and have some good old fashioned Yay-We're-Not-Dead sex." He knew he'd definitely rather.

"Damon." She spoke his name with a mixture of affection and irritation.

He smiled ruefully and looked away. He was the one always telling people to face reality; guess it was his turn. "I know, I know. Fine, go ahead, get it off your chest; whatever it is you're so desperate to say, just say it."

"I wish you wouldn't act like you already know what I'm about to say. You're not making this easy."

He laughed bitterly. "Elena, when I try to come up with words to describe… _this_ ," he gestured to the space between them, "easy isn't even in the top ten."

"All I'm saying is that you're _you_ …and I'm…well, I haven't even officially graduated high school. Not exactly an expert on life or being a vampire yet. I've had a lot to process," she said, avoiding his gaze.

"I know," he acknowledged quietly.

"I'm still grieving my brother." Her voice hitched. "I don't have anywhere to live now because I burned my house down. I've needed to figure out…us, and what happened between us."

He bit the inside of his cheek. Here it came. Just please no tears. He couldn't handle tears.

She took a deep breath and then spoke in a rush, like she had to get the words out or else they might evaporate. "Damon, I love you. Please, don't leave me again."

"I have to, Elena." His eyes closed briefly. "I'm doing this for you."

"No, you're doing it because you're afraid," she countered sharply. "You're afraid that I won't forgive you. But there's nothing to forgive. I don't blame you for anything that happened. You just wanted to help me and you didn't know what else to do. I get that."

"And it worked out really well, didn't it."

"You're not listening to me. I love you. I'm not sired to you anymore, and I'm still in love with you, just like I knew I would be. I want to be with you. Please just stay, and we can figure everything out."

Ok, not what he'd been expecting. Until this moment, he'd honestly thought the worst thing she could say to him was that she'd never really loved him, that nothing between them had been real, but he was wrong. This was infinitely worse. She claimed to love him but that was only because she didn't know yet. She had no clue what actually lurked in his heart.

"Elena, if you had any idea the things I wanted from you…. Klaus was right. I agreed to give him Katherine and in return I'd get…you. I was going to do whatever it took to keep you. I planned to take you somewhere far away from here and ensure that you never regained your humanity. That's what I wanted."

Elena shrugged like _so what_? "And I'd have gone with you. I still would. That probably says something terrible about me, but I don't care."

He looked at her with disbelief etched across his fine features.

"Don't forget that I was right there with you," she reminded him. "A part of me enjoyed it, all the terrible things we did. That's in me now." She put her hand over her heart. "Like you are. Even at my darkest, I came to you. I _stayed_ with you. Not Stefan, not anyone else. You. I only wanted you. And I still do."

He slowly shook his head. "You deserve so much better. I'm selfish. Impulsive. Cruel." The last emerged as a whisper. He couldn't believe that _he_ had to tell _her_ this. It seemed so obvious. The universe must be laughing its ass off.

"Maybe that's what you see, but I see something different. I see someone who's loyal and protective." She smiled sweetly. "I see someone who's good even though he tries really hard to pretend like he's not."

He tried again, lamely, "I couldn't protect you from killing Katherine. That never should have been your burden to bear."

Elena's face hardened at the sound of Katherine's name. "She killed Jeremy. I had just as much right to end her as anyone. She _hurt_ you over and over, every chance she got." She looked down and her hair fell across her face. "Though, I guess I have too."

"Don't. You're nothing like her." The words came out more harshly than he'd meant for them to.

She moved closer but he retreated a few steps. She halted and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "What's really bothering you?"

He stared out the window above the sink so he could avoid her gaze. "My true self is dark, Elena, and I hate knowing that I'm capable of dragging you into that darkness with me."

"Ooo," she exclaimed with greatly exaggerated sarcasm, wiggling her hands in the air, "Damon Salvatore has a dark side. I got that memo a long time ago. You really think I look at you differently now?"

How could she not? He scowled. He suddenly felt ancient compared to her. How could he make her understand?

"Do you look at _me_ differently?" she asked hesitantly, like she was afraid of the answer.

"Of course not." Elena was Elena. It didn't matter what she did, she was stubborn and resilient and compassionate and extraordinary, and while those traits had driven him completely batshit crazy at one time or another, they were also the reason why he loved her so fiercely.

"If you can accept me at my worst," she asked, "why do you assume I won't do the same for you?"

Frustrated, he swung around to glare at her and ground out, "Because your worst is cute, Elena. Mine is…not. You compelled a bunch of kids to hang out at your lake house so you could snack on them. I took you to the next level. You were basically apprenticed to a serial killer. I didn't even try to fight what Klaus did to me. I had no intention of _ever_ fighting it. Being with you felt too fucking good."

She came closer and pressed her palms against his chest. The contact burned like fire. If she were to remove her hands, it wouldn't surprise him if her touch left behind two hand-shaped scorch marks.

"No matter what you say, Damon, you'll never convince me that deep down you're not a good person." She reached up and cupped his face with those burning hands. "Look at me."

His eyes slid up to meet hers, and he stared at her brokenly. He didn't know what to do with this, with _her_. He vastly preferred condemnation and disappointment. He was used to that. He could absorb that shit all day long. This – someone actually, truly having faith in him – was devastating. He had no defenses against it.

"I love you," she said vehemently as if she could somehow force him to believe her through the intensity of her voice. When he didn't respond, she began to look nervous. "Say that you still love me. Even after…everything."

He must have looked confused. He felt confused. It had never even occurred to him that she would be concerned that _he_ would judge _her_. His lips parted, but he had no fucking clue what to say.

He watched her pink tongue dart out to wet her lips, and her eyes searched his. "Whatever it is, whatever else you want to say, it doesn't matter. We'll figure it out. Later. Just please say that you still love me."

He swallowed. How was this girl real?

"Damon…" Her features were a blend of exasperation and uncertainty. She was waiting for him to say _something_.

"Of course I still love you," he assured her, regaining his voice. "I don't know why you even need to hear me say it."

"I'll always need to hear you to say it." She stood on her tiptoes and brushed her mouth against his, softly, hesitantly.

His eyes closed as he surrendered completely, no longer willing to resist what he wanted so badly: her. It would always be her. He'd tried, but he was an idiot if he thought he'd ever succeed in excising this girl from his heart. She was in his bones and blood. He had no idea how she'd found it within herself to forgive him, to love him in spite of everything, but he was done looking this gift horse in the mouth.

He kept his hands to himself, savoring this gentle, chaste kiss that tasted like absolution. Yeah, yeah, he knew it was corny, but it was true.

The kiss deepened slowly, her tongue darting out to lick the seam of his lips. He propelled her back against the kitchen counter, hands reaching out for balance on the counter top, enclosing her within his powerful frame. Her hands still rested warmly on his cheeks, and her body arched up to him.

He broke off their kiss momentarily to ask with an arrogant smirk, "Lemmie make sure I got all this straight. You enjoyed _everything_ we did together?"

She bit her lip while a furious blush stole across her cheeks. All the wicked things they'd done to each other and he could still make her blush. Thank you, god.

"I did," she admitted, pupils dilated, the heady scent of her arousal filling the air. She locked gazes with him, and if his eyes reflected even a tenth of what he felt, she'd see nothing but pure adoration.

All at once, he was consumed by the desire to touch her, to run his hands and tongue over every inch of her. His lips descended forcefully over that exquisite, velvety mouth, coaxing it open, promising with strokes of his tongue exactly what he was going to do to other parts of her body.

His hands found their way under the hem of her sweater, and he brushed it up, exposing tanned, taut flesh. Loving the contrast of their skin, ivory against caramel, he fanned his fingers around her waist, and a hunger began to grow in him that only this girl could satisfy. Dropping down to his knees, he grazed his lips over her stomach.

With a wicked gleam in his blue eyes, his fingers dug into her waistband, and he easily tugged her jeans all the way down to her ankles, leaving behind white lacy panties.

He took a moment just to admire the perfection of this scene. There was something about the place where bright white lace met quivering warm brown skin that fascinated him. He needed to take a closer look.

"Damon," she giggled when his breath tickled the inside of her thigh, "someone will hear."

Smiling deviously, he flared his impossibly blue eyes up at her. "Then, I guess you'd better be quiet."

His tongue flicked across the silky skin of her thigh, until he found that spot where experience told him she was most sensitive. He glanced up again. Her eyes blazed as they encountered his, and her pulse galloped along at a wild, uncontrollable pace. She sunk her nails sharply into his shoulders, and he returned his attention to her thigh, leisurely stroking as she undulated beneath his caresses.

Everything about this girl, her clean, floral scent, the small sounds she made low in her throat, the softness of her skin and hair, enticed him. She was his every fantasy made flesh.

His fangs ached, and he bit into her thigh, swift, scorching blood arcing down his throat with each swallow, a rich, sultry rush that was pure ecstasy.

She gasped, tugging at his hair, panting his name.

He felt her begin to shudder, and he could tell that she was close to losing it. Then, she stopped writhing and stiffened, breathless, head falling back. She was so deliciously close.

A bit of the devil stirred in him. He leaned back, prolonging the culmination of her pleasure, and informed her through bloody lips, "Something's been nagging me."

Her eyes slowly opened as if focusing was a herculean task. "Hmm?"

"How did you escape Rebekah's evil clutches?"

"Oh," she smiled secretively, "I didn't escape. She let me go."

"Why would she do that?"

"She may be one of the oldest vampires in history, but she's still a girl. You know how desperate she is for a friend. I just listened and pretended to care about what she said. Turns out we have more in common than I'd realized. I managed to convince her I would betray you and give her the cure as long as she let me kill Katherine."

"And were you? Going to betray me?" For some reason, he found that an incredibly huge turn-on.

"Oh, definitely. There was lots of bondage and ravishing. You would have loved it," she teased.

"So ruthless. I like," he grinned up at her.

She brushed a hand through his black hair and smiled in return. "What, you think you're the only one who can manipulate or use sex to get what you want out of people? You don't give your girlfriend enough credit."

His smile grew. She'd called herself his girlfriend. "If you say so." He penetrated her bare thigh again with his fangs, relishing her taste.

After a minute, another thought occurred to him, and he pulled away a second time. He was afraid to ask, but he did anyway. "What exactly do you and Rebekah have in common?"

"Damon…" she groaned, hips arching forward, desperately seeking what he was momentarily denying her.

"Spill. Then, you come."

She pouted. "It's not every girl who's had the opportunity to sleep with _both_ Salvatore brothers. We…had fun comparing notes."

He froze. He wasn't sure if he liked this. "And what was your conclusion after you compared these notes?"

She raked her fingers through his hair and yanked him back against her. "That I'm exactly where I want to be right now."

All it took was one scrape of fang over damp lacy panties, and she cried out as she was catapulted violently over the edge. With his vampire strength, he pulled her down into his lap, capturing her cries with a kiss. He didn't care if anyone knew what he and Elena were up to, but he wanted to spare her the mortification if he could.

They remained like that for quite awhile, Elena on his lap, legs spread, her core resting snugly against his hardness, her forehead propped against his. It required all of his willpower not to take her right there on the kitchen floor, but he liked this moment, her satisfied, serene expression; the way her hair fell around them like a beautiful, dark chocolate veil; how she leaned on him as if all her bones had been reduced to jelly.

She kissed him again, and her tongue flitted out, tidying up his appearance by licking away the remnants of her blood which clung to his lips. That was his girl. So thoughtful.

"So I was thinking you should probably pull your old cheerleading uniform out of storage," he began.

"Nope." She laid her index finger across his mouth. "No more talking until _after_ you take me upstairs and deliver on that Yay-We're-Not-Dead sex you mentioned earlier. _Then_ we can discuss what I may or may not be wearing in the near future."

"Oh? Is lots of sex how I'm going to make everything up to you? Please say yes." He'd already scooped her into his arms and was halfway to the staircase. She fit perfectly against him as if she'd been made especially for him.

Elena giggled and threw her arms around his neck. "Yup, that and jewelry. I like diamonds. Big, shiny ones."

He grinned crookedly down at her. He was going to make sure this girl had everything she ever wanted. Always. "Done and done."

 _If you made it this far, you rock; thank you for reading my story. I really appreciate it. I've never done anything like this, and I have no idea where this story came from. Must just be the by-product of watching way too much TVD (wait, is it possible to watch too much TVD? I'm gonna say no to make myself feel better_ _). I hope there weren't too many plot holes and inconsistencies._

 _ **P.S.**_ _I'm sorry I killed Katherine! She's one of my favorite characters on the show, and I really didn't want to do it, but her death was just too perfect as a plot device for my story. I didn't have a choice, I swear!_


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